


Big Brother's Heavy Hand

by GreyFalcon



Category: Herobrine - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Themes, Cosmic Balance, Evil side of humans, Gen, Good versus Evil, Herobrine is Evil, Humans act like humans, Nobody is all good or all bad, light vs dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25705201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyFalcon/pseuds/GreyFalcon
Summary: Notch and Herobrine have been fighting for control of the universe for some time. When Notch finally gains the upper hand, He strips away Herobrine's godhood, as well as his powers. He then sets his brother on the Overworld and warns him that He'll be watching. Notch also assigns angels to oversee His still-dangerous brother, and to keep him from harming anyone in StoneWay.Herobrine hates humans, and now he has to live among them, and work with them, on a daily basis. The people of StoneWay are very class-oriented, and refuse to give this angry stranger any help.Cut off from his powers, Herobrine has to wait for Notch to make a mistake that he can turn to his advantage.
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Minecraft is a fully functional world in this story, and the people living there are every bit as complex and nuanced as one would expect. Bad things can and do happen to good people, with no clear rhyme or reason. How an outsider (someone whose never had to deal with humanity on a regular basis) handles himself when he's suddenly on the lowest rung of the social ladder shows people at their worst--and their best.
> 
> Minecraft™ is a video game. This story occurs in a Minecraft™ world with the Aether mod. None of these worlds belong to me. Minecraft™ belongs to Mojang and Microsoft. The characters Herobrine belongs to Mojang. Notch belongs to himself. CN
> 
> NOTE: This story is for NEW ADULTS (age 20+)
> 
> NOTE: Copyright 2019 USA

He was trapped in the Overworld. The hunters found his portal and destroyed it. Fear settled in his lungs as he felt his gate go down.

Then the mortal dogs caught his scent; he fled, but not fast enough. He couldn’t get any real distance between himself and the hounds on his trail; he found he was unable to lose his pursuers. He needed time to build another portal, to make it back to the safety of the Nether. Time was the one thing he didn’t have.

Finally, desperate, he turned to fight. With just a smidgen of luck, he could whittle the numbers down until they turned and ran. He drew his sword and poniard and ambushed his hunters; before they could react, he’d cut half the dogs down. But Notch was there, blocking his lightning, mending the warriors who fell, rallying his troops. Herobrine turned and ran again.

They finally backed him into a corner. The numbers gathered against him sucked. They started at almost twenty-to-one; they now stood at three-to-one. Still, it wasn’t enough, not when the God had caught up to them, and the other two were superior warriors.

Notch swung his hammer, shouting, “Herobrine, yield—you’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

Herobrine cursed, jumping straight back to avoid the blow. He slammed into the bark of a tree, and panic surged through his veins. _Trapped!_ The white-eyed deity changed the panic into lightning, and shot the bolt at his brother. “I’ll not yield to you!”

Notch batted the discharge away. The mortal hunters hurriedly avoided the energy as best they could. They continued to harry Herobrine from the sides, keeping him from sliding around the trunk and escaping.

“Be sensible!” Notch snapped. “You’re injured and boxed in. More violence will only work against you, for it’s your blood that’s falling!”

Herobrine hurt everywhere, but he continued the battle. _I know how to fight!_ He rolled in one direction and, when the warrior on his other side stepped in, Herobrine spun back and performed a backswing that ripped through the harrier’s armor, laying his chest open. _Blast, not fatal!_

The other fighter leapt into the fray; Herobrine blocked his sword stroke and, using the backswing again, hacked deeply into the warrior’s thigh. The man screamed and collapsed, clutching his leg.

“Brother, that’s enough, stop or face the consequences!” Notch commanded.

“Never!” Herobrine snarled. He put the tree between himself and the creator, and set fire to the forest detritus lying about. _He’ll have to protect His pets._ The white-eyed god hurriedly selected a transport destination, and shifted himself there.

Instants after the successful teleport, Notch appeared before Herobrine, his hammer raised and already swinging. Herobrine’s sword, raised to deflect the blow, shattered; the hammer head smashed into his arm and shoulder. He screamed as his collarbone broke. He felt himself hit the ground hard enough to leave an indentation; everything went black after that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having been captured, Herobrine learns what his fate is to be.

Herobrine opened his eyes to a stone brick ceiling, a cold darkness that wrung shivers free, and the echoes of receding footsteps. A sliver of light crept beneath the iron door to his right.

_I’m in a cell, and I’m still alive. Blast, I have no luck! Why did they have to spare me? Doubtless Notch wanted to choose an appropriately agonizing end that He could oversee. I wonder what method of execution He chose?_

He tried to move his right arm, and crippling pain raced up and down his side, leaving him panting in its wake. _Right, Notch smashed the holy fire out of me._ He glanced to his injured side, and saw his arm suspended in mid-air, with a number of screws and pins sticking out of the bandages. _Looks like my right arm’s pretty much shattered. Right shoulder’s wrapped, doubtlessly broken. Collarbone’s guaranteed to be busted. Some ribs outright snapped by the feel of it._

Moving his left arm slowly and carefully, he brought his fingers to his neck and face. _I’m wearing a neck brace. I can’t feel the right side of my face, He really pulverized me._

His hand dropped to his stomach, encountering even more bandages. _Oh yeah, that’s right, I took a slash across the abdomen. My left leg is wrapped, as well._ He smiled mirthlessly. _He didn’t leave much intact._

He dropped his hand back to his side, idly scratching at the rough fabric he lay on. Every now and again, a jolt of pain reminded him of his injuries, but it remained exceedingly muted. _I’ve been drugged, he realized. But I’m a god; why do I need medication of any kind?_

Worry raised his adrenalin. He fought to clear his mind, to reach inside to the power therein. _No power, nothing there… how much did He take!? Calm down, take as deep a breath as you can, concentrate._

_I want to be whole; I want my bones to mend; My will be done!_

_Nothing._

_All right, keep breathing, keep calm. I want to return to the Nether—no, not the Nether, no one in their right mind wants to go there! Let’s try… that cave I was working on, the one I was converting to a nice way-station._

_Teleport to the cave; My will be done!_

_More nothing._

_Can I even levitate? No._

_Notch took it all. My godhood, my powers, my—immortality, all gone. He stripped me of everything._ Tears dripped from his eyes.

After long moments they stopped; he scrubbed at his face with his one good hand. The sound of approaching footsteps pulled his eyes to the door. An Aetherian nurse entered, bearing a small tray with a mug. She paused as soon as she saw his eyes were open, then placed the tray on a side table he hadn’t noticed earlier. Walking over to his bed, she reached down and began cranking the bed into a sitting position. He moaned as his head raised and the blood rushed towards his feet.

As soon as he was halfway sitting, she ceased cranking and held the mug up to his lips. “You need to drink this,” she ordered, “its medicine to help with the pain.”

He forced himself to swallow.

Once the cup was emptied, she placed it back on the tray. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. Notch was incredibly generous to spare your life.”

“You call this luck?” Herobrine scoffed. “A disaster, a catastrophe, a calamity perhaps. But good luck? Not in the least.”

Disdain crawled across her face, but she returned his bed to its previous position before leaving.

Herobrine settled back on the mattress and closed his eyes, trying to rest. He turned his mind to guessing about his future. _Notch wants me dead, so why do I still live—? He’s always wanted my powers, and now He has them. He took my status as a god to put me in a position He could control. And the immortality? Well, that was typical Notch pettiness._

_All His creations wish me dead. If He agrees with them—and He’s proven He does—I can expect to be executed once I’ve healed adequately. It won’t be an easy death. Again, pettiness on His part._

_That doesn’t leave me a lot of options. Timing is going to be crucial, if I plan to ever leave this cell of my own volition. I have to be injured enough to keep the mortals from enacting their vengeance, and yet healthy enough to escape. Sounds like a fever dream, Notch isn’t going to let me get out of His hands that easily._   
_And even if I can get out of this cell, where can I run? He’s made me mortal!_

_First option: The Nether. As a mortal, the Realm of Fire would be a death sentence. Still, I’d be free, and in familiar territory. I’d need to reach my fortress, and the equipment I have there. All I’d have to do is avoid all the monsters, the lakes of lava, and the soulsand, while keeping myself hydrated and rested. Yep, the Nether is a death-trap._

_Second option: the End. As a mortal, the End is nearly as dangerous as the Nether. Endermen aren’t to be taken lightly, and the End Dragon must be avoided at all costs! One badly placed step, and you fall into the Void, never to return. I have supplies stashed there, they’d come in handy—if I could get to the floating island they reside on. In that realm, I’d also have to keep myself hydrated and rested. Nonetheless, I’d be free, and in familiar territory. So, the End is a slightly better choice than the Nether._

_Third option: the Overworld. What a joke, I can’t stay there! Notch would sic His pets on me, and they’d hound me to the ends of the realm. Dying at their hands would be both painful and ugly. And, of course, brother dear could get involved at any time, helping His creatures find me. He might even prefer to take me down personally. Forget the problem with hydration or rest, just staying alive would be a major accomplishment!_

Herobrine lay still for long moments, keeping his breathing even as he reviewed his conclusions. He choked down the need to scream.

_Face it—Notch took away all viable options. The only choices left—if I can break out—are how and when I die. If I can’t get out of this cell, I won’t even get to choose the manner of my death._

A sudden increase in light caught Herobrine’s attention. He looked around the cell curiously. His breath caught when he found Notch standing over him.

“Greetings, brother,” the creator said. “Are you in any pain?”

“Pain?!” Herobrine couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the joke, or go straight to cursing his brother out. He took a third route—sarcasm. “If it isn’t the great and powerful Notch, come to pay a call! Your followers will be disappointed to find out You’ve been slumming, it’s so beneath You.”

Notch scowled. “Your snide remarks have never been funny.”

“But they make me feel so much better. Now—what more do You plan to steal?” Herobrine’s voice turned ugly.

“I wanted to see how you fared.”

Herobrine’s voice dripped scorn. “I’m doing amazingly well, all things considered. You’ve given me a marvelous room in Your prison. I’m surrounded by the lovely scenery of stone bricks and iron bars. The bed’s a hospital bed, what else can I say? My nurse is wonderful company, though she’s a bit of a prude. And I can’t move—wait, let me correct myself, I can move my left arm. What more could I want?”

“Enough,” Notch growled.

“Enough what? Have I provided enough appreciation for the fine situation I find myself in, courtesy of your hunting dogs? Or perhaps I’ve shown enough gratitude that I’m still alive?”

“Be. Silent.” Notch commanded.

Herobrine felt his vocal cords disappear; he glared icicles at his brother.

“I’m here to discuss your future,” Notch growled.

_A discussion requires two people communicating with one another,_ Herobrine projected his thoughts to his brother. _You’ve cut the two-way communication. You’re here to proclaim Your verdict, and to convince Yourself of Your righteousness. You’re here to tell me how I get to die._

Notch jaw twitched; He stared at the wall for long moments. “You’ve always been a problem,” He finally started. “You’re disrespectful, and reckless, and callous. You show no concern for the disasters caused by your impulsive actions. I’ve warned you about this, time and again, but you refuse to listen. You refuse to grow up. I banished you after you opened that portal to the Nether and buried three towns beneath lava. You deserved far worse! The banishment was meant to force you to reflect on your many mistakes, and how your actions cost you your freedom. You were supposed to learn humility.”

Notch closed His eyes. “Instead, you marshaled your forces, and attacked the Overworld.”

Herobrine smirked.

“It’s not funny!” Notch raged. “You started a war between realms! You caused death and destruction to thousands, millions!”

Herobrine rolled his eyes. _Now you’re exaggerating. The body count is nowhere near a million. It might be up to ten thousand, but no more than that._

“Your forays wiped out entire towns. Your monsters destroyed families. You’re trying to wipe out humanity, and I won’t stand for it!”

Herobrine’s lip twitched into a sneer. _Yes, You’ve proven Your love of Your pets. Over and over and over. A pity they didn’t have powers that You could steal for Yourself, they’d get a whole new view of their ‘beloved’ creator! Your idea of ‘brotherhood’ would chill anyone’s soul._

“You don’t respect My desires, or My creations. You don’t respect Me. Your arrogance is appalling. You’re unfit to be a god—so I took that away from you. You abuse your powers, so I took those away from you. You don’t even deserve to be immortal.”

Herobrine’s eyes narrowed dangerously. _The same can be said for You. You will pay for what You’ve done._

“You’re a mortal now, no better than the humans you despise. In this form, you WILL grow up. You WILL take responsibility for your actions. You’ll learn how difficult it is to be small, and limited. If, as time goes on, you prove your maturity to me, I’ll return your immortality to you. If you don’t, then you die.”

_Liar!_ Herobrine mentally snarled at his brother. _You don’t intend to return anything You stole! You just want me to kowtow to Your great will and wisdom! Well You can take Your plan and shove it! I’ll never bow to You!_

“You’ll stay here while you heal—like a mortal. Once you’re able to take care of yourself, I’ll put you down in a village in the Overworld. And I’ll be watching you, so remember that any harm you do to the people of the town will see you punished.”

Herobrine carefully raised his left arm to where Notch could see it. He smiled as he gave his brother an obscene gesture.

Notch huffed angrily, and disappeared.

Herobrine worked on controlling the rage thrumming through his muscles. _Petty %$#@ didn’t bother to return my voice. At least I know roughly where I’m headed. I need to work out a way to escape Notch’s oversight, and what I can do to regain what He stole from me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herobrine--now known as Brian Waylander--gets to meet the people of StoneWay.

In the middle of a rainstorm, Herobrine found himself transported to StoneWay by two of Notch’s elite guards. They appeared in the township, standing on either side of their prisoner, resplendent in their diamond armor and spears. Rainwater dripped from their red capes.

Herobrine felt the rain soaking through his hair, and into his shirt. It stole body heat; he shivered as his right arm and shoulder throbbed with pain. He was suddenly grateful for the sling he still wore.

As a god, he’d never had to think about mortal limitations. Having minimal interest in the creatures, he didn’t bother to find out about their lives. Notch’s prison impressed some hard lessons on his psyche: lessons about hunger, and thirst, and fatigue. Lessons about being cold. Lessons about unending pain, and aching bones.

One guard shoved a large sack at him; Herobrine struggled to catch it one-handed.

“These are your supplies, including additional clothes,” the guard snapped. “The bag contains enough to get you started with your new life in this village. Remember the rules—you’re not allowed to bear weapons. Don’t leave the village environs. Don’t damage the villagers. There will be Aetherians watching you at all times, so be on your best behavior. The creator expects you to get a job and become a contributing member of this community.”

Once finished with the list of instructions, the guards vanished.

Herobrine glowered at their footprints for a second, then strode down the gravel walkway and into the town. It was a decent size, having over a hundred homes built of cobblestone and oak, as well as a number of businesses. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the houses.

Herobrine sighed with relief when he located the inn, the Savory Pig. He stepped inside and shook the rain from his clothes and hair as best he could. Then he headed for the counter, where the innkeeper waited, plunking his sack there as quickly as he could.

He pulled a piece of paper from his pockets and scribbled on it: “Room, hot bath, supper—how much?”

“Four emeralds,” the innkeeper informed him.

Herobrine flipped open his sack and rummaged in its depths, retrieving a money-pouch. Opening it, he counted out four emeralds, handing them over to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper led him to a small room. Once the villager left, Herobrine closed the door and shoved the chair against it. Then he closed the curtains and lit the candles provided. The bag found a temporary home beneath the bed. Finally, Herobrine sat on the bed, removed his shoes, and crawled beneath the thick covers. _Finally! Some comfort! Some warmth! Some privacy!_ He shifted his injured arm carefully, making sure that it was supported, and let himself drift off to sleep.

Several hours later he sat at a table in the tavern portion of the inn, staring at the remnants of his shepherd’s pie. _Tally your resources, Herobrine, so you know what options are available. Notch didn’t kill me, which makes no sense. But He took a lot from me—godhood, powers, immorality. My voice. And He crippled me, I have pins and plates in my right arm. I’ll be weather sensitive from now on; which is not something to be desired! The only ‘nice’ thing He’s done to date is to provide an illusion for my eyes, so that I’m no longer the White-Eyed Terror. So that I can ‘fit in’. Thanks, but no thanks, brother, this isn’t the grand favor You made it out to be. I guess that’s why He left me alive, He wants to enjoy my suffering, the lowlife dog. In the sack I have clothes, a hooded cape, and an additional set of boots. And paper and pen, otherwise I couldn’t communicate with anyone. Money-wise, I have thirty emeralds—wrong, twenty-six. That’s a pittance to live on for any length of time. And the blasted Aetherians plan to keep their eyes on me. As a mortal, I won’t know when they’re around. Therefore, attempting to escape is out—for now. I might as well settle in somewhere comfortable, perhaps I can purchase a home. Oh yeah, dear brother expects me to get a job and support myself. What type of work is available for someone with less than two working arms? I’ll have to come up with something to do… that’s going to take some thought._

Pulling another piece of paper from his pocket, Herobrine scrawled another message, which he then gave to the innkeeper.

The villager read it. “’How much to buy a house around here?’” He looked at Herobrine. “None of these houses are for sale. The families have lived in them for generations. If you plan to stay here, you’ll have to build your own. And I don’t recommend you hang around.”

Herobrine leaned back on his heels with a silent groan. _Joy._

***

The next day, he purchased a plot of land at the edge of town, with a dirt path for a street. It took a handful of days to put together a house, a garden, and a small well; it also drained his supply of emeralds. He carefully fenced in his yard, sectioning parts off as animal pens.

Once the house was secure, he collected some wild grass, and headed out into the woods past the town’s gardens. _I need sheep. I need wool. I need to make a bed, I’m sick of sleeping on the cursed floor!_

In the woods surrounding the village he located a tiny herd of four wild sheep nervously grazing on the grassy stubble growing beneath the trees. Holding the grass out, he coaxed the animals to follow him back to his place, and into one of his pens. Shearing the beasts was an exercise in stupidity, but he persisted: by that evening he had a bed to sleep on.

Pounding at his door woke him early the next day. Sleepy and confused, he wrapped a blanket about himself and careened over to the door, wondering who would be banging at this time.

Two mortal guards stood there in the dawn’s light, sturdy men from the city watch. “Brian Waylander,” one guard spoke, “you are under arrest for stealing four sheep from Kaleb Wilson’s herd.”

Herobrine backed away, shaking his head fervently. He crimped the blanket under his arms, yanked a piece of paper off the log serving as his table, and scrawled on it: ‘The sheep were WILD. Untamed. Roaming in the woods. I didn’t steal.’

“Nevertheless, we have a warrant for your arrest. Please come along quietly,” and the two guards entered his home. Herobrine backed up, still shaking his head. Each guard grabbed an arm; the blanket fell to the floor. The guards promptly released him, looking anywhere else.

The sergeant-at-arms snapped, “Go get dressed, man!”

***

The court was one of the four large stone buildings in the town. A large desk at the far end of the room served as the judicial bench. Pudgy judge Neil Apperson sat behind the bench stroking the thick gold chain he wore as a fully-clothed Herobrine was brought up before him.

Neil looked him over curiously. “I don’t recall your face,” he said.

The sergeant-at-arms leaned close to the judge, whispering, “He’s the mute.”

“Oh! Yeah, now I recall.” Apperson looked down at the sheet of paper on his desk. “Stealing sheep. That’s a pretty serious offense.”

Herobrine jerked away from the guards holding his arms. He stormed up to the bench, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and slammed it down before the judge.

Apperson picked it up and read, “‘The sheep were WILD. Untamed. Roaming in the woods. I didn’t steal.’” He looked over to one side, where several villagers stood. “Kaleb Wilson, please approach the bench.”

The man who stood up was well-dressed, his tailored suit immaculate, his brown hair slicked tightly back. “Neil,” he greeted the judge.

“Kaleb, this fellow claims that those were wild sheep. Are any missing from your herd?”

“Your honor, I’m missing four sheep from my pen. Yesterday eve I spotted them behind this miscreant’s house, in one of his pens. So yeah, I’m pretty sure he stole them.”

The judge looked over to Herobrine. “Do you have anything to say to that?—err, I mean write?”

Herobrine scribbled another comment on the paper, ‘Not tamed. Wild. They bite, kick, and butt.’

Apperson chuckled when he read that. “Sounds like you had a fun time getting them over to your place,” he grinned. “Nonetheless. The court finds you guilty of stealing four sheep from Kaleb Wilson. You will pay restitution to Kaleb, and spend thirty days in jail, for your offense.”

Herobrine flipped the judge off.

“Make that sixty days,” Apperson snapped. He looked to the guards. “Get this trouble-maker out of here.”

Later, sitting on a hard cot in another cell, Herobrine glared at the door as Kaleb sauntered through it. A guard brought a chair in for the villager.

Kaleb sat down and smirked. “Gotta thank you for the sheep, they’re a nice addition to the hundred-twenty I already own.” He leaned forward. “You need to learn something. There’re certain people who do quite well here; it’s easy to tell who they are. Even a stranger can pick them out. You need to be nice to these folk, ‘cause they’re your superiors. We own the town, we own the land, and we take care of our people.

“You’re not one of our people. If you ever want to do anything in this town, you need to understand your position in the hierarchy. You need to acknowledge and respect your superiors. And when we say ‘jump’, you ask ‘how high’?”

He stood up and turned to leave. “Think about it. Play by our rules; otherwise, we’ll make your life a living hell.”

Herobrine leaned back against the wall after the villager left. _Why do I keep running into this type of scum? More importantly, what can I do about it?_

***

Sixty days later, Herobrine returned to the ruins of his house. The fences and the sheep were gone. Nothing remained of his garden. The water supply was fouled. The only bits of his home that remained were the cobblestone foundations. Everything was covered in ash, and reeked of fire.

He leaned down, picking up a hand-sized chunk of charred wood from the floor. _This is where my bed was; they even destroyed that._

Herobrine dropped the wood and sat on the rear portion of his house’s floor, staring out into the woods close to his lot. He felt his blood pressure rising. _‘Play by our rules, or lose everything.’ Where have I heard that before? Notch, I found Your soulmate, his name is Kaleb Wilson! I have to think clearly, to re-assess the situation. These reprobates will destroy anything of value they can find… therefore, I need to hide anything I value. I also need to limit what I value. I need to rebuild. I need to make this place nice, to serve as a distraction, something to keep them away from the things I truly value. Whatever those are._

A sheet of paper came drifting out of the sky. He watched it glide down until it touched ground just in front of him. He picked it up and read the message: ‘How does it feel to be griefed?’

His vision went red for long moments. He stood up, clenching both fists, and soundlessly screamed his rage at the world, and at his brother. Eventually he regained dubious control of his temper.

_I need to hit something before I slaughter these—mortals, these Notch-made aberrations._

Herobrine dug around in the remains of his home, coming up with enough to construct a stone axe. Afterward, he set off for the woods. He returned before sunset with an aching left arm, as well as an abundance of oak logs. The walls to his home were back up before he went to sleep that night.

The next morning, he woke to a stiff back and a growling stomach. Grabbing his stone axe, he headed out into the woods again. _I need to eat. I need a stable supply of food, and perhaps something I can trade. I’m not about to depend on the townsfolk, they’ve proven their lack of worth. I need something they don’t consider valuable enough to commandeer…_

A duck waddled in front of him. He raised his axe, then paused. _Is this stupid chunk of meat worth another sixty days?_

Inspiration struck, and he followed the duck at a safe distance. After a bit, the bird returned to his flock, and the pond they occupied. Herobrine scoured the area, including the pond waters, scooping up any dropped feathers and eggs. _Eggs for food, feathers for a comforter, and nobody cares a lick about these! Perfect._

He returned to his home and proceeded to cook and eat a number of the eggs. Then he separated the feathers into those for quills, those for fletching, and those for comforters. _This will work._

His next stop was the nearby river, where he spent several hours scooping rocks out of the water, discarding all but the flint. He also snatched some of the sugarcane growing along the banks.

By that evening, Herobrine had a crop of sugarcane growing about his new water pond, a flint dagger, and a number of good-quality sticks. Several oak logs were being turned into charcoal in his oven. He spent his time carefully putting together several arrows; while he wasn’t pleased with the results, the arrows were still serviceable.

He went to sleep rather happy with his plan.

***

The next dawn, Herobrine woke to someone pounding on his wall. Again. He staggered to his feet and over to the open doorway, glaring at the guards standing there.

“For Notch’s sake, get some clothes on!” the sergeant-at-arms barked.

Herobrine crossed his arms, leaning insolently against the doorframe in all his naked glory.

“Fine,” the sergeant-at-arms growled. “Brian Waylander, you are under arrest for stealing chickens.”

There was no paper at hand. Grabbing a piece of charcoal from the firepit, Herobrine wrote in large letters across the wall: ‘How many, and from whom?’

The guards looked at one another, shrugging.

Herobrine wrote below the earlier message: ‘No chickens here.’

The guards pushed into his domicile. One checked out the firepit, then inspected his supply of eggs. The sergeant-at-arms brought a handful of feathers up before Herobrine’s face. “If you didn’t steal the chickens, where did these feathers come from?”

Herobrine rolled his eyes. ‘DUCK feathers,’ he wrote.

“Uh, Sarge, those aren’t chicken feathers,” the second guard said.

“What about those eggs?”

“They’re duck eggs, Sarge. See how they’re all small and brown and mottled? Chicken eggs are white.”

Herobrine pointed to the doorway.

The sergeant-at-arms spotted the newly-constructed arrows. He picked one up, looking at the fletching as well as the arrowhead. “Did you make these?” he asked suspiciously.

Herobrine narrowed his eyes, pointing at the exit a second time.

The sergeant-at-arms scooped up all the arrows and turned to leave. He pressed something into Herobrine’s hand. “We’re taking these as evidence.”

The two guards left. Herobrine blinked in surprise at what the guard handed him—an emerald.

_Did I just sell my arrows?_

***

That evening the sergeant-at-arms showed up at his door again. Herobrine looked up from the arrow he was finishing, scowling at the man.

“I’m here about those arrows you made,” the guard said. “How many more have you got?”

Herobrine looked over to the side, where a few dozen arrows rested. The guard reached down and picked one up, examining it closely. He pointed to the strand of grass rolled about the arrow shaft, just above the fletching. “Why don’t you use linen thread here?”

Herobrine took a piece of paper and wrote, ‘Got no thread. Prefer spider silk.’

The guard nodded. “Yeah, but silk thread is way too expensive. I’ll bring you a good-sized roll of linen thread. In exchange, you re-string that stack of arrows and give them to me.”

Herobrine looked the guard over for a moment, then nodded agreement.

***

When he acquired five emeralds for his work, Herobrine cleaned himself up and walked into the Savory Pig. _I want a bath, and a good meal, and another night in a real bed. I’ve pretty much earned it, I think._

The innkeeper intercepted him before he took five steps into the establishment. “You’re not welcome here,” he growled. “You need to leave. Now. Before I call the guards.”

Herobrine stepped back, confused. He pulled his money-pouch from his pocket.

“You got nothing to trade or sell to me!” the innkeeper shouted. “I don’t want your money! Now get! Get out of my place!” He shoved the other into the street.

Herobrine stood confused for a second, then stomped back to his house. _I will make you pay,_ he vowed, _somehow, someway, you will pay._

The sergeant-at-arms approached him just outside his house. “What bee flew up your ass, Waylander?”

Herobrine glared at him, then stalked past. Suddenly he turned around and handed his money pouch to the guard. ‘No more money,’ he wrote on a quick note. ‘Take these, buy me nice bed!’

“You’re over-paying.”

Herobrine studied the guard for a long moment. ‘Need quality linen cloth for comforter. Also needle and thread. The rest is yours.’

The guard shrugged, “Sure. Be back later today.”

That night Herobrine slept on a luxurious bed, covered with a down-filled comforter.

***

The ducks always woke Herobrine just after dawn. He pushed his comforter off and stood, stretching and trying to wake up. _Bloody noisy beasts, why can’t they ever sleep in?_

Silently grumbling, he got dressed and went out to care for his livelihood. Each pen received a half-a-bucket of grain from both his daily scrounging and his garden, enough to keep the fat birds occupied for the day. After feeding and watering, Herobrine collected their feathers, as well as most of the eggs they laid.

He took a hand-axe and killed two ducks, plucked them, gutted them, and brought their carcasses into his home. Once inside, he dropped them into a pot, added potatoes and carrots, and tossed the pot into his oven. _This will be a boring meal, but any food is good. I wish I knew how to cook, or who could teach me to cook._

After breakfast, Herobrine sat at his bench and began working on his next stack of arrows, cutting the tip of the arrow shafts in preparation for inserting the flint arrowhead.

A knock at his door broke his concentration. Aggravated by the interruption, he stalked over to the door and threw it open.

Kaleb Wilson stood there, along with two bodyguards. He smiled up at Herobrine. “Mister Waylander, how good to see you! I thought I might come in and discuss a little business proposition, if you don’t mind.”

The villager tried to step into the house, but Herobrine filled the doorway and refused to grant him entry.

“There’s no need to bear a grudge, I’m willing to let our past unfortunate experiences slide. In fact, what I have in mind will benefit you greatly.”

Herobrine stepped out of his house, shutting the door firmly. He crossed his arms and glared at Wilson from the top step.

Wilson shrugged, “Have it your way then. Mr. Waylander, we’ve been watching you for months now. Having seen and approved of your work ethic, as well as your inventive talents, the committee agreed to welcome you into our little community.”

Herobrine’s eyes narrowed. Wilson saw this, and chuckled. “What this means, Mr. Waylander, is that you can trade your goods in the town. You will be able to buy those things you desire. Everyone will know that you belong, and will treat you with the respect you deserve.”

Herobrine sneered.

Wilson stopped talking, puzzled. “This is a great gift we’re laying at your feet. All you need do is say yes—well, in your case, nod your head. You’ll no longer be ostracized. You can approach anyone and they’ll know you’re a part of the community. We’ll take care of you, and your needs.”

Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, Herobrine scribbled a quick message on it, then shoved it in Wilson’s hand. Then the ex-deity stormed back up the steps, into his house, and slammed the door shut.

Kaleb Wilson looked at the note. It read ‘And when we say jump, you ask how high’.

***

Once back inside Herobrine grabbed the items needed to make a comforter. He recently collected enough down to make the kind of comforter people in the snowy areas would lust after. The initial plan had been to sell it, but now he meant to keep it, hidden and safe, for when his present comforter got destroyed. _Because it will be destroyed. Kaleb Wilson has to save face by trashing this place. Oh, how I yearn to put his head on a pike! That fool believes he can successfully threaten me? Ha! I’ve got Notch riding my ass, the mortal can’t do anything to compare!_

The new comforter got tightly rolled, and stuffed into a sack as soon as it was finished. Herobrine looked around his house, trying to find anything else he valued. The only things that came to mind were the needle and thread, as well as his flint dagger, all of which he added to the sack. This got dropped below the house’s crawlspace, into a tidy hole Herobrine constructed months ago. He sealed the opening with a carefully-shaped stone, so few people would find it, even if they explored the crawlspace.

_Now we wait. They’ll probably attack tonight._

Late that night, the ducks started squawking excessively. Herobrine rolled from his bed, already dressed. He picked up a thick stick and walked toward the door, expecting a fight. There were a dozen men in his yard, killing the ducks, breaking the fences, and ripping up the vegetables. Herobrine rushed toward the nearest griefer, and rammed the stick into the man’s gut.

The thug dropped to the ground; Herobrine followed him. His head exploded with blinding pain. Words rolled over him, digging into his ears and scouring his brain: “You’re not allowed to bear weapons. You’re not allowed to leave the village environs. You’re not allowed to injure the villagers. Remember, any damage you do to the people of the town will see you punished.”

The commands repeated, each cycle exponentially increasing the pain. Herobrine screamed with each iteration, rolling and thrashing on the ground. Distantly, he felt the intruders beating him with clubs and kicks; it didn’t compare. Finally, the commands reached a fever pitch; the world disappeared beneath a blinding white pulse of agony.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notch assigns an overseer for his uncontrollable brother.

Herobrine opened his eyes to a familiar stone brick ceiling.

_I’m still alive._ He closed his eyes and sought out the darkness of unconsciousness.

When next he woke, he looked about the cell, noting how nothing seemed real. All the edges appeared fuzzy. His thoughts were as unfocused as his eyesight. It seemed cotton swaddled him so thickly reality couldn’t touch him. Inwardly, he felt numb.

_This isn’t so bad._ Thinking back, he remembered the attack from that night. _How many hooligans were there to fulfill Wilson’s commands? Doesn’t matter. Notch’ll keep them safe, the self-serving monster._

The thought of his brother stirred some anger, but it was weak, scarcely worth noting. He ignored the emotion, gratefully retreating further into the strange lethargy. He spent his time studying the pattern of bricks in the wall.

He blinked, and that same nurse stood by his bed, holding a mug up to his lips. “You need to drink this,” she insisted.

_I’m tired, leave me alone._ Nonetheless, he swallowed what she offered.

Another blink, and he spotted a guard peering at him from the other side of the cell door. Herobrine smiled and flipped him off with his good arm.

Another blink, and Notch stood before him. _Always scowling, always dissatisfied. You have everything You ever wanted, and it’s not enough. You ripped away everything I valued, and it’s still not enough. Poor fool, fated to be unhappy for eternity._

The creator put his hand on Herobrine’s forehead, and the haziness cleared up. The ex-deity jerked hard when reality hurdled towards him and sucked him in.

“What--?” He didn’t hear his voice, and thrashed about in confusion until he remembered. Then he relaxed back into the stiff bed.

“I healed the worst of the damage,” the creator huffed. “You should be able to think coherently now.”

_Why would I desire coherency? It’s vastly over-rated,_ Herobrine projected to his brother. He already missed the comforting blur.

“You’re not stupid,” Notch snapped. “You should fear losing your capacity to think.”

_You took everything else, I figured that was the next thing to go._

“Quit. Pressing. Me,” the god snarled.

Herobrine shrugged his good shoulder, feeling his other arm react painfully to the movement.

“You’re back here because you attacked a mortal,” Notch accused his brother. “You were expressly told what would happen if you tried to harm anyone, but you couldn’t restrain yourself. You disappoint me.”

Herobrine thought back to that night, and the fight that never took place. The anger returned in a rush, a flood of adrenaline and hate that had him quivering in response. _Well, I had to make sure that they truly earned their griefer title, you can’t hand those out to just anyone,_ he projected back to his brother with all the venom he could impart.

Herobrine grinned maliciously when he saw Notch seething. The creator paced angrily the length of the room, occasionally glaring at his brother. “This is not a joke!” He roared. “You were told of the consequences, and yet you continue to defy Me! I’ve warned you time and again about insubordination! What must I do to force your obedience!”

Herobrine growled silently. _You don’t own me, brother. You’ve no right to try to control me. I’m not a servant! I’m not Your lackey!_

“You’re a defiant fool! You pit yourself against everything I do! You rebel for the sake of rebelling! You’ve no morals, no scruples, and no sense of right or wrong. You’re nothing more than a destructive child, and I refuse to stand by while you throw a temper tantrum.” Notch stopped, taking a deep breath. “You can’t control yourself; therefore, I’m putting someone else in charge of you.”

Herobrine narrowed his eyes angrily. _You don’t have that right._

“Of course, I do,” Notch scoffed. “I’m a god. You’re nothing. Your overseer shall teach you about respect and humility. He’ll teach you right and wrong. He’ll teach you to accept responsibility for your actions. He’ll teach you discipline. He’ll teach you to hold your tongue. He’ll teach you how to behave toward your betters. And you’ll learn these lessons. One way or another, you’ll learn your place.”

_You don’t have the RIGHT!_ Herobrine shouted at his brother. Notch reached out and grabbed hold of the ex-deity’s head; once again, the world disappeared in a brilliant flash of white fire.

***

Herobrine and Steve appeared just outside of StoneWay the next day. Dressed in a fine navy-blue three-piece suit, Steve stood for a second, orienting himself. _Decent-sized town, population 512, no wall, gravel streets. Mortals in abundance._ “Well, I suppose we had to stick you somewhere,” he commented. “It’s nice enough.”

Herobrine stood just behind Steve, swaying slightly, blinking in the sunlight. His right arm lay in a dark sling.

Steve looked back at his charge, not liking the dazed look in his eyes. “Focus,” he instructed. “Take me to your home.”

_Burned down,_ Herobrine replied, not moving. _Nothing left, as far as I know._

“Yes, you angered the residents, as I recall. We’ll have to mend that bridge later. For now, take me to where your home used to be.”

Herobrine took the lead, walking into the town, past the Savory Pig, and down the dirt path to his place. People stepped back when they recognized him; some scowled, others turned away. He paid them no heed. His parcel of land, when he reached it, was reminiscent of the first time his house got razed to the ground. He stood before the foundation as Steve walked around, crunching through the char, stirring up the ashes with his boots.

“Someone has a temper problem similar to yours,” Steve commented. “We clearly can’t stay here. Who is in charge of construction in this burg?”

_I don’t know._ Herobrine traced the charred clumps of wood indicating where his pen fences used to lay. He recalled how long it took to get the fence posts in place, how the gate would always groan and catch because he dinged a hinge.

“Pity. Who’s the person in charge around here, their leader?”

_Mayor. His name is Carlson Fredericks. He’s found at City Hall._

“Two names, eh? Very well. Take me to see this mayor.”

_I never met the mortal._ Herobrine kept scanning the ruins.

“Quit being recalcitrant. Take me to City Hall, I’ll find him from there.”

Herobrine turned and walked back into the town center, finally stopping before a large stone building. _City Hall._

“Follow.” Steve walked up the steps into the building, observing everything with a critical eye. He walked over to a young woman carrying a handful of papers, smiling as he blocked her path. “Excuse me, miss, but where might I find Carlson Fredericks?”

The woman looked up at the Aetherian and melted. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you right to the Mayor,” she said, batting her eyes.

She took the pair up to the top floor of the building and knocked on a dark oak door. “Mister Fredericks, there is someone here to see you,” she called.

After a few moments, a response came from the other side of the doors. “I’m busy right now, Melissa.”

Steve brushed past the female, opening the door and walking in. He strode up to the ebony desk before him and stood, smiling politely at the balding man closing several desk drawers. “Mister Fredericks, I am Steve… Waylander. I require a house for myself and my brother, with whom should I speak?”

The mayor carefully gauged the quality of the Aetherian—his elegant clothes, his gold cufflinks, his even white teeth. “You may speak to me. Please, be seated.” He caught sight of Herobrine in the background and scowled. “What’s he doing here.”

Steve turned his head, watching Herobrine fight Notch’s hold on him. “Stop that,” he commanded. Then, turning back to the mayor: “This is my brother, Brian. He’s been a problem for our family for some time. He unsuccessfully attempted to settle here earlier; I’m present to ensure that his next attempt succeeds, that the transition to becoming a merchant/artisan is smooth. However, to do that, we need a domicile. So, how much shall it cost to have a place constructed?”

“That depends on what you want, of course.”

“Funding isn’t a problem.”

“I see.” The mayor smiled like a hungry shark.

Ignored as he stood next to the door, Herobrine struggled against the bonds Notch wrapped him in. _You don’t have the right!_ he howled.

Steve flinched from the force of the cry; he turned to glare at Herobrine, pointing a finger at him. “Cease your prattle!” he commanded. “You’re interrupting our discussion.”

Herobrine continued to struggle, but after a few moments he subsided; the dazed look reappeared in his eyes.

“I apologize for that,” Steve returned to his conversation with the mayor. “Now, as you were saying…”

They stayed, discussing the house to be constructed until dusk fell, and everyone hurried indoors. Fredericks invited the pair to stay in his mansion, but Steve refused: “Brian doesn’t handle new situations well. I can’t help but think that some misfortune might occur. It’s better if we return home, and come back on the morrow.” Steve stood, shaking Fredericks’s hand. “I thank you for your time and efforts on my behalf.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Fredericks responded.

Steve turned to the door, gesturing to Herobrine: “Follow,” he commanded.

***

Back in the Aether, Steve sat in a comfortable chair just outside Herobrine’s cell, where he could watch the prisoner. Herobrine, for his part, paced from one wall to another, anger fueling his feet. Steve simply watched the other until fatigue caught up with the ex-deity, and he collapsed onto his cot.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Steve asked.

_Not to you._

“Pity, because I’m going to speak to you, and you’re going to answer. What did you learn from today’s interactions with the mortals?”

_I learned that you’re a gullible fool._

“There’s no need for name-calling, or harsh words.”

_You asked my opinion._

“You saw how I spoke with the villagers. I was calm, and polite, and treated them with respect. And how did they react to me?”

_Fredericks is planning to suck away every emerald you possess, through fair means or foul, smiling the entire time. The girl, Melissa, wants to jump your bones; she plans to get pregnant, so you’ll be forced to marry her. These people shall welcome you with open arms—so long as you have the emeralds to keep them happy. If and when you run out of funds, they’ll make you a meal for the mobs in the dark._

“You condemn the townsfolk with little to no proof.”

_I lived among them for almost a year. I watched them in their daily tasks. I listened to them when they complained, when they whined, when they plotted against one another. I heard John Hendricks beat his wife and children regularly. I watched Abel Renner drink himself blind nightly. I learned that Mayor Fredericks fornicates with Ethel Kitzinger, Anna Davidson, and Patty Howard on a set schedule, promising each that he will marry them as soon as his wife passes. I watched Tom Baker, the innkeeper, steal money from the inn he does not own, and shake in fear each time he succeeded. I saw Kaleb Wilson cheat his employees of their wages, and overcharge his customers._

_I see no reason to support such abominations. The world would be better served if they were removed._

“You’re too judgmental.”

_And you’re naïve._

Steve interlaced his fingers. “You don’t mention the other members of that town, I note. What did you see when you spied on them?”

Silence.

“Answer.”

_I saw neglect. I saw gluttony. I saw callousness._

“I’m positive that you saw good behaviors, as well. Kindness, concern, happiness. Tell me of those occurrences.”

_Get out of my head!_

“Tell me of examples of kindness that you watched.”

The answers came slowly, pulled out reluctantly. _I saw… Duncan Saunders help his son with his homework. I saw… Anna Hill rescue a cat from a tree for her neighbor. I saw… Kim Myers carry her brother Jordan home when the child hurt his knee. I saw… Get out of my head!_

“In short, you saw far more examples of kindness, of concern, than you saw of destructive behaviors. What was the ratio of good actions to bad actions?”

Steve watched Herobrine struggle against the bonds yet again. “Was it five-to-one? Ten-to-one?”

_Twenty-two._ Herobrine sounded exhausted as he quit fighting. _The ratio was twenty-two to one._

“Twenty-two good actions versus one evil action. That’s rather overwhelming odds for benevolence, don’t you think?”

_They’re not equivalent!_ Herobrine snarled. _The so-called good behaviors affect one or two at most. Their darkness is far more expansive; one evil action can affect the entire town! And it has!_

“Elaborate.”

_Fredericks wanted more money to increase the size of his stables. He raised the taxes to achieve his goal; it put two families out on the street._

_George Singer, the banker, decides how much to pay his customers for deposits of iron and gold; he_ _keeps over half the worth of the materials for himself. ‘Good business practices’ he claims. He’s beggared dozens of mortals._

_Herman Koch takes the ores pulled out of the ground that day by the people working his mine, and returns a pittance to them. This forces the miners to go underground daily, to keep their families fed and off the streets._

_I can name many other examples; darkness is far more pervasive among Notch’s pets than He’ll ever admit._

Steve cocked his head. “If this behavior bothers you so, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

_An outsider has no chance to make a difference in that town. Besides, they prove my point with their actions. Why should I bother to confront them when it’s part of their nature? They’d either try to drive me out of the town, or return to their degenerate ways as soon as I left. Actually, they’d probably do both. I’m not about to see my blood spilled for their benefit and entertainment._

Steve regarded the prisoner for long moments. “I believe this is a good place to start. Tomorrow we’ll see about addressing some of those reprehensible behaviors you uncovered.”

Herobrine sneered as he slid beneath his too-thin blanket. _You’re a fool. The only conclusion to this course of action is both of us being driven out of town—or killed. Prepare for pain, Aetherian; Notch’s pets deliver pain with startling efficiency._

***

The pair entered the town shortly after dawn. Steve led the way back to Herobrine’s parcel of land.

The burned-down homestead land now held a score of chests loaded with supplies for their new home. Steve inspected the materials in each chest: birch and oak for the woods, iron and stone and concrete for the rest. “Apparently they put up the building shell first,” he noted. He looked up as three villagers approached.

“Mr. Waylander, I’m Charles Townsend, the architect for your new home,” the leader announced. He waved a long rolled-up sheet of paper about. “I’ve put together what you mentioned yesterday in your discussion with Mr. Fredericks, would you like to see the blueprints?”

“Of course.”

Herobrine stayed on the dirt path, away from the villagers and his overseer. He slid his good hand beneath the sling and rubbed his injured shoulder gently, trying to massage away some of the ache. _The doctor tells me the damage to my shoulder and arm is too severe to be repaired by anything short of a miracle. He swears I’ll never use it again._

Carts pulled by horses, filled with men, approached the construction site; Herobrine shifted further away from the group. The construction crew jumped off the cart and walked over to the crew boss, one of the three men gathered around the Aetherian.

Herobrine wandered over to the edge of the forest, eventually sitting on a log near the trees. He kept rubbing his shoulder and arm, sighing as the heat of the sun warmed that side. He closed his eyes and basked. _This is nice, far superior to that interminable cell._

“Brian!” Once he remembered that was his new name, he looked up to find Steve approaching.

_What?_ He frowned.

Steve sat on the same log, facing his pseudo-brother. “They have run into a rather interesting quandary,” he noted. “The floor plans for the house are fine, they include all I requested. However, it won’t fit on your plot of land.”

Herobrine smirked. _So sorry, those tiny emeralds your kind provided wouldn’t buy enough land to hold a mansion._

“In order to place the domicile here, we’d have to purchase the five plots of land surrounding your parcel. And that would only provide room for the house, there’d be no grounds worth mentioning.” Steve paused. “They also say that this area of the town floods. The hills just over there provide a safer location, and have more available land to offer.”

Herobrine snorted his silent laughter. _Those lands over there belong to the privileged. They’ll cost you far more than you know._

“And why would that be, oh all-knowing one?” Steve scoffed.

_Because they’re owned by the privileged. You’ll have to buy your way into their good graces. Since you have access to the Aetherian treasury, this is entirely within your means—for a while, at least._

“This idea repulses you,” Steve noted.

_I leave the choice of our location to you. After all, overseer, I’ve no real say in the matter._

“Again, you mock me.” Steve’s eyes flashed warning. “Your attitude gets tiresome.”

_Choose, overseer. Show me that superior Aetherian wisdom you value so highly._

“Very well. I’ll inform the workers that our home shall be built in the hills.”

***

That night Herobrine tried to ignore his instructor as he paced in his cell. Steve was having none of it. “Talk,” he commanded. “Tell me what you learned today.”

Herobrine stared at the Aetherian for long moments. _I’m continually astounded by the incomprehensible Aetherian principles and wisdom you practice,_ he finally replied.

Steve leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you insist on sneering at everyone? I’m here to help you, to teach you a better path.”

_I neither want, nor need, your lessons._

“You’re wrong, you desperately need help. Notch has empowered me to provide the rehabilitation you require.”

_Notch can rot in the Nether for eternity. And your ‘lessons’ are the maundering thoughts of a child. Stay here in the Aether, you and your kind are unfit for the other realms._

“Your assertions are meaningless. No other realm can match the Aether warriors. No other realm holds as much wisdom and knowledge as we. And I’m not a child.”

_Pricked your pride, did I?_ Herobrine laughed silently.

Aggravated, Steve left the chair and the prisoner. “Think back on your past actions,” he called over his shoulder. “Determine why your course was wrong. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

***

The next morning saw Steve walking into Kaleb Wilson’s estate, followed by a very reluctant Herobrine. Once he told the servant his name, he and Herobrine were whisked away into a fine sitting room.

Herobrine refused to sit.

Steve happily shook Kaleb Wilson’s hand. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” he said. “I am here on behalf of my brother to offer an apology for his abhorrent behavior. Attacking your employees was unacceptable, and I’m here to offer recompense.”

Only the memory of his earlier punishment kept Herobrine from choking the Aetherian.

Kaleb sat back in his leather chair, looking somewhat surprised. “This is quite a shock,” he said, “certainly an unexpected development. Fortunately, your brother only attacked one of my men, and rather poorly at that. If he apologizes for himself, I’m willing to overlook the entire situation.”

“That’s very generous,” Steve said, turning to Herobrine. “Well, Brian? Can you scrape together an ‘I’m sorry’ for Mr. Wilson?”

Herobrine snarled, _I’d rather go back to the Nether as a mortal!_

“That’s not an option. You need to apologize for your misbehavior.”

_Never!_

Steve glared at the other. “Apologize. Now,” he ordered.

Herobrine fought with everything he had to control himself. He lost. His legs carried him to stand before Wilson. His hand reached into his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper and scribbled ‘sorry’ there. This he handed to Wilson.

After that, control returned. Herobrine turned on his heel, and stormed out of the mansion. _You have no right!!!_ he roared at the skies.

Steve winced at the volume of his mental scream. “Sadly, that’s the best he can do for now. Why were you at his house, anyway?’

“I had a business proposition that he took offense to,” Kaleb replied smoothly.

“Oh? Pray elaborate.”

“Your brother makes really fine arrows,” the merchant started. “I’d hoped to set up a contract where I would buy his products, and pay him a good price for them. Then I’d resell them in my shops.”

“And he took offense to this.” Steve rubbed his temple as Herobrine continued to harangue the skies.

“Yep. Got no idea why.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell me more of this business deal you desired.”

***

Steve found Herobrine beating the side of a barn with his usable fist when he finally left Kaleb’s mansion. Blood flew from his knuckles with every strike; the wood appeared soaked in red. _Damn you!_ His curses resounded with each blow.

“Yes, yes, you’re very fierce. It’s an admirable display of temper. Now, that’s enough.” Steve grabbed Herobrine’s good arm. “Enough, I said!”

Herobrine spun around, trying to yank his arm free. Seeing the fury in the ex-deity’s eyes, Steve kept a tight grip. “You don’t want to do that,” he warned.

Herobrine kicked Steve away, freeing his arm.

“Halt!” Steve frantically commanded as the other charged him.

After long moments Herobrine stilled, his eyes dull and confused. His thoughts no longer pounded through the Aetherian’s head.

“Follow,” Steve ordered.

As they left town, Steve chided Herobrine. “What’s wrong with you? Attacking me would trigger Notch’s punishment, surely you know that! You can’t like pain, nobody likes being hurt. Let me see your hand.” He examined the bloody limb. “It’s badly broken. Why didn’t you stop? Now both your hands are mangled.”

Herobrine snarled wordlessly as he shadowed Steve.

Once in the Aether, Steve hustled Herobrine into his cell. Then he released control.

Herobrine promptly threw himself at the iron bars. He backed off when they didn’t budge. _Y_ _ou had no right!_ He shouted as loudly as he could, causing Steve to wince.

“Let me remind you that you’re a prisoner of the Aether,” Steve snapped. “As such, YOU have no rights. We’re trying to rehabilitate you, to integrate you into mortal society, but you make everything so—very—difficult!”

_You’re trying to force me into the shape you think I should take!_ Herobrine roared back. _You want me to become a sniveling mortal, the kind that’s grateful for the chance to suck up to you! I wasn’t created mortal! I’m not a mortal! I’m Herobrine!_

“But you are,” Steve replied softly. “You’ve become mortal. And we Aetherians were placed in charge of your rehabilitation.”

_Your people aren’t gods! You’re merely immortals! Notch had no right to ‘give’ me to anyone, least of all you stupid puppies!_

“Let me remind you—you lost the war you declared on Notch. You lost your freedom. You live solely because He chooses to let you live.”

_I’d rather die than live on His suffrage! His pity’s colder than the depths of the Void, and mercy is a word He never understood._

“If that were so, you’d be long dead.” Steve glared at the prisoner. “The Aetherians were created to fulfill Notch’s desires in the Overworld. We strive endlessly to please Him. So far, we haven’t fallen short of His expectations. I’ll do my utmost to ensure that you’re not our first failure.”

_And what do you expect to receive for your endless service? Recognition? Rewards? If you think for one moment that Notch will elevate a servant, you’re a greater fool than even I imagined._

Steve snapped, “I’ve no wish to be a god—especially with you here as such a sterling example. I’m here to help you to adjust to a new life.”

_Don’t. Bother. I spit on your ‘new life’._

“Nevertheless, with incentives, I’ll ensure you adapt to being mortal, and all that entails. To that end, I’ve negotiated with Mister Wilson on your behalf.”

Herobrine glared venomously at Steve.

“You’re to construct three stacks of arrows a day for him to sell. He’ll provide the raw materials you need. He’ll also pay you an iron nugget a day.

“This gives you a way to earn your living in the Overworld.”

Herobrine growled soundlessly as he dropped onto his cot, looking down at both his broken hands. Slowly, his rage gave way to amazed delight. He started laughing, and couldn’t stop, falling across the cot in his mirth.

“What’s so funny?” Steve demanded, alarmed by his charge’s reaction.

_Oh, you're unbelievable!_ Herobrine chuckled. He sat up, leaning closer to the Aetherian. _You’re so clueless… when the griefers attacked me that night, they knew my right arm was damaged. That means it became their target. And they hit their target, many times. It’s been broken in so many places, the tendons and ligaments ripped so badly, that I lost all use of it. My right shoulder, my right arm, are no more than lumps of excess meat. It takes two hands to make arrows. I couldn’t make one now if my life depended on it. With your name on the contract, you get to explain this to Kaleb Wilson. You get to tell him why the contract can’t be fulfilled. And then you get to try and wriggle out of the damages he’s going to demand._

_Oh—you get to explain it to your superiors, too!_ The humor left Herobrine’s thoughts. _Good luck with that._

***

Later that night, Herobrine woke when somebody yanked him bodily from his bed. He felt his back slam into the cell wall. By this time, he recognized his assailant. _Notch?_

The creator grabbed his brother’s bad arm, hard; Herobrine writhed from the pain. Immediately thereafter, the throbbing from the many screws and plates vanished. Simultaneously, his broken hand lost the swelling that made it so painful; his knuckles healed over, his bones realigned and re-solidified.

Notch promptly backhanded his brother, knocking him into the middle of the cell. Rising to his feet, Herobrine rubbed his jaw, warily keeping the creator in his field of vision.

“You’ll hold to that contract,” Notch snarled. “I’ll not have you defaming myself or the Aetherians as an entertaining pastime!”

The god vanished. Herobrine ignored his brother’s exit; he stood in the darkness, clenching and relaxing both hands, as joy lit him up from the inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herobrine gets a different overseer.

The ducks always woke Herobrine just after dawn. He pushed his comforter off and stood up, stretching and trying to wake up. _Fool birds, why can’t they ever sleep in?_

Silently grumbling, he got dressed and went out to care for his livelihood. The ducks crowded around the gate, eager for their rations. Herobrine used both hands to spread the seed liberally about. Fat ducks were happy ducks; he enjoyed keeping them in that state. As the birds squabbled with one another for breakfast, Herobrine walked through the pens, collecting eggs and feathers, dropping his finds into the bucket he carried.

After breakfast, Herobrine moved his bench outdoors, deciding to sit in the sun for a while. When his bench rested where he desired, he sat and began working on his daily task of creating three stacks of arrows. He found the day to be thoroughly pleasant… the sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, and Steve hadn’t come around for days. Neither had Wilson.

_All told, it’s one of the better days._

Shortly after his lunch break, Frank Thompson walked up his path. Herobrine stopped working and stood, waiting patiently for the sergeant of the guard.

Frank raised his arm in greeting. “Hey, Brian, you ready to part with some more arrows? I got your payment here,” and he held up a fat pack. Herobrine raised his eyebrows and patted his bench seat. As Frank unloaded the pack, he returned to his house and picked up a sack filled with arrows. Each of these arrows had a tiny ‘H’ engraved on the shaft.

He handed the sack to Frank, who pointed to the goods laid out on the bench. “One stack of cookies, a pound cake, and one pouch each of jerked beef, jerked mutton, and jerked pork. There wasn’t any quality linen in OxBow, so I picked up a small cask of rum. You don’t mind the exchange, I hope.”

Herobrine shrugged his lack of concern.

“By the by,” Frank shuffled his feet uncomfortably, “Beth is insisting you shouldn’t be alone. Again.”

Herobrine sighed and shook his head.

Frank nodded, “She means well, but she’s hard-headed. She can’t see how a man could want to be single.”

Herobrine reached under the bench and retrieved a small, clean square of paper, and a quill pen. He carefully wrote ‘Not interested, thanks anyway’ and, once the ink dried, he passed it to Frank.

“Oh! Right, she also told me to invite you over to supper,” Frank pulled his hand back from the note.

Herobrine considered the invitation. _She’s a good cook, vastly better than I’ve managed. Also, she’s not overbearing—at least, not to me. Then again, I’m not her brother._

The ex-deity finally nodded, and Frank heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ll let her know. We’ll be expecting you shortly after sunset?”

Herobrine nodded again as he moved his goods into the house. _I’ll never understand mortals. Why should anyone require constant company? That would drive me mad._

Once the foodstuffs were put away, Herobrine shifted his bench into the shade, and returned to his work. The arrows were halfway completed, a few more hours and he’d be finished with the work that had to be done for the day. The remainder of the time was his to use.

The sun beat strongly down on his back, making him sweat. As he realized that, Herobrine froze and looked up. _I’m beneath the tree; I should be in the shade…_ He nervously watched the sky, jumping to his feet when a meteor blazed a searing path to the ground. That spurred him to rush his bench and his supplies back into his house, and lock the door. He stood for long moments in the single room, throttling his panic into non-existence. When his breathing was even, and his heart no longer clogged his throat, he unlocked the door, and sat at the table. _If Notch descended to the Overworld—which appears to be the case—He hasn’t made an appearance here. Therefore, I’m not the one receiving His ire. I’m innocent in His eyes. So, I should relax._

He began nervously pacing, then forced himself to return to the table and sit. _Relax. Yes, the oh-so-special creator is on the Overworld, and entirely too close to your position, but He isn’t interested in you at this time. I have nothing left that He would covet. What’s He going to do, steal my arrows?! He’ll leave soon enough… Perhaps I should open that cask early—no! That’s a sure sign of weakness._

The ground shook briefly. Herobrine kept shaking long after the land ceased trembling.

***

Someone occupied the room with him. Herobrine cried out silently in shock, leaped from his bed and grabbed an unfinished arrow, holding it like a dagger.

A man stood at the foot of his bed, eyeing him with an idle curiosity. Herobrine took in all the important details in a single glimpse: tall, blond, gleaming skin so he’s clearly immortal, three-piece suit. Another Aetherian dog.

 _What do you want!_ he snarled at the intruder.

“I’m James, your new overseer.”

Herobrine sneered. _Steve wasn’t good enough?_

“Sadly, no,” James replied. “He shirked his duties, in favor of the adulation of the mortals.”

 _So? I lack the hauteur you Aetherians desire so fervently. Therefore, he pursued his own interests and left me to mine, which suited the both of us nicely._ Herobrine scoffed as he returned the unfinished arrow to a spot beside his bed. He straightened up, facing the Aetherian. _You can leave now. I have work to do tomorrow; I need more rest before sunup._

“First we need to speak,” James asserted.

_No. We don’t. You already told me the crux of the matter._

“There are additional details that must be ironed out before you’re seen in public again.”

Herobrine glared at the Aetherian, soundlessly growling. _Clearly, you’re unskilled when dealing with others. I need my sleep. A lack of uninterrupted sleep results in a very grumpy individual who makes very inferior products. Now go away._

James sighed, “You don’t order Aetherians around, Brian. You’re our prisoner; we control you. You need to get dressed,” he commanded.

Unable to stop himself, Herobrine put on his clothes and stood before James. In the interim he silently called his new overseer every vile thing he’d ever crossed the path of.

“I was forewarned of both your temper and your tongue,” James noted when Herobrine stood waiting. “Sadly, the warnings were accurate.” He gripped one of Herobrine’s shoulders. “Come.”

Herobrine cried out in silent frustration when he found himself back in the same Aetherian cell. _What’s wrong with you people!_ He tried to shout. _Why do you insist on coming back to these stupid cells! What good does it do!_

On the other side of the bars, James replied, “The cell is a reminder that you are not free. The cell reminds me that I am responsible for your rehabilitation. Neither of us shall leave before certain facts are known, and certain rules are clearly understood.”

 _You’re the excrement of a diseased pig._ Herobrine dropped onto the cot in his cell, and rolled onto his back. His eyes began burning; he yawned mightily.

“Herobrine, wake up. Sit up. Speak of all the times you met with Steve. Tell me what you said, and how he responded.”

He felt his natural control over himself dissipate into the air, replaced by the walls and chains and bars of Notch’s domination. Herobrine threw his mind against these bonds, doing everything he could to break free. He wore himself out in the one-sided fight; all too soon he dropped to his mental knees, too weary to continue.

“Speak.”

It felt like somebody carelessly scruffed him, then dropped him into his memories of Steve. _The first time…_

***

His head pounded fiercely; his memory was a fragmented mess. _Where am I?_ Multiple images shoved to the fore of his mind in response: he stood in the cursed Aetherian cell, he stormed out of Kaleb Wilson’s sitting room, he reluctantly walked down the streets of StoneWay following his vile handler… Herobrine rolled off whatever he lay on and hit a cold stone floor, shielding his face from the light. _No more, leave me be_ , he moaned. _Get out of my head…_

“Go ahead and sleep,” James soothed.

Notch appeared beside the Aetherian. “And?”

“Creator, I’m astounded by my findings. Amazingly enough, Herobrine warned Steve against the privileged mortals; he pointed out their ploys, their motivations, and the results they desired. For all of that, Steve didn’t listen. I can’t help but think that Herobrine’s reputation sullied the information from Steve’s viewpoint. It would explain why he refused to believe anything your brother said.”

James shifted to face Notch directly. “I questioned him about all salient events repeatedly, to ensure the validity of his memories. I—do not believe that he lies, Creator.”

Notch glanced at the unconscious form beside the cot. “He’s a destructive creature, one you should fear. And I believe he’s insane. But he doesn’t lie, not intentionally, not directly. Not blatantly. As aggravating as you might find it, he’s as honest as he can manage; remember this point, so that you don’t make the same mistake.”

Notch stared for long moments at his brother’s supine form. “Teach him to respect me, James. Teach him to obey. If you can’t convince him of the need to change, then I’ll have to annihilate him. That would bother me—for a long, long time, if that were the case.”

“I hear you, Creator.”

***

Herobrine woke later on the cell cot, a raging hunger and thirst trembling through his limbs. He tossed the blanket to the floor and sat up, holding his aching head. _The worst thing about these sessions is that when they get demanding, only I get the hangover._ He tried to remember any details of his new overseer, but they remained hidden in the confused haze of his mind. _Overseer!_ he mentally shouted to anyone who would listen. _I need food and drink on a regular basis! Your duties include seeing to the needs of the poor fools trapped under your thumb! You’re slacking off already!_

He sat on the cot and waited, rubbing his temples. A few moments later, James walked over to the cell door and passed a tray through the opening. Herobrine picked up the tray, seeing his usual fare: a cold meat pie, and a mug of water. He resumed his seat on the cot, and demolished his meal.

“You’re offensive,” James informed him as he ate.

_Good._

“This isn’t a worthy goal.”

_I don’t care._

“You should.”

_Why, do you expect me to fawn over you and yours? Do I look like a lapdog? Perhaps you hope to train me like one, eh? Aetherian, that’s far beyond your meager abilities._

“My name is James.”

 _Well then, James._ Herobrine sat the now-empty tray on the side table. _What lesson do you plan to subject me to today? Since we have to ‘understand’ one another to your satisfaction._ He leaned back against the wall, using the cot like an oversized chair. The hangover, and the trembling in his limbs, dissipated as he applied food and drink to his needs.

James sighed. “I need to remind you of the goals you must achieve if you’re to progress. First: you need to learn respect for others, especially those clearly your superiors. You must learn to offer respect to your peers and your betters. This includes controlling your tendency toward arrogance, and curbing your language. You seek to prove your superiority by escalating offensive dialog to physical confrontation. This behavior must stop. You must learn to hold your tongue.

“Second, you must learn discipline, and from there, humility. You must learn to discipline yourself—subdue that all-too-vicious temper you’re infamous for. Control your barbed language. Cease trying to harm people with words.

“Third, you need to take responsibility for your actions—any and all actions that you take. Your responsibility covers the results of your actions, as well as the indirect results of your actions. If you cause harm, then you must do your best to fix it.

“Fourth, you need to learn the difference between right and wrong.

“Finally, you need to learn compassion for the other mortals. Theirs is a hard lot, and you shouldn’t make it any more difficult. Prove your concern by integrating into their society, reaching out to them, helping them when and as they need. Stop killing them for entertainment. You slaughtered many mortals in your wars, this shall help you recognize the full scope of your evil.

“When you have fulfilled these objectives, your brother might consider you mature enough to return your immortality. Otherwise, I can guarantee that you’ll die.”

 _Notch doesn’t plan to return anything He stole from me,_ Herobrine replied with a quiet venom. _He doesn’t want me, He has no interest in me. What He wants are my powers, my abilities as a god. He ripped them from me so that He could use them for Himself. As a result, I’m now the chaff to be discarded in the trash._

“If that were true, why would He insist on providing you with guidance and rehabilitation? We Aetherians have been tasked with helping you to change, teaching you the error of your ways. He used His strength to restrain you enough that we might reach your conscience. Why should he do that if He planned to discard you?”

The ex-deity paused for a bit. _Mostly entertainment, I’m sure. To see me brought low and humiliated on a daily basis must delight Him to no end. It’s also His way to salve His conscious—what remains of it. ‘I did My best, but My evil brother was too wicked to save.’ This way He can kill me, and feel guilt-free._

“That’s not true,” James asserted. “He has told us repeatedly that He requires you to be shown your failings, the darkness within you, so that you can purge yourself of this evil. He wants you to turn over a new leaf, and become worthy of being a god.”

Silence stretched between the two. Herobrine shook his head. _What He wants is a slave, a dog to run at His command. Someone to fawn over His every action, and never disagree with His orders. Notch requires total and complete obedience. He desires me to willingly submit to His will, and become His puppet, instead of the being I am._

“Don’t twist my words. You need to see and fully understand the effect your destructive rampages have on the beings around you. You need to learn civility, and moderation. You need to respect your brother, and to show him this respect.”

_So, I should accept being made mortal with good grace, then? I should acquiesce to Notch, thank Him for kicking me in the teeth? I should fall in line with the other pathetic, disgusting mortals, and follow Him around with my tail wagging hopefully? I think I’ll pass._

“Herobrine,” James’ voice softened, “you don’t really have a choice. We’re going to do our utmost to help you, to change you. I might fail, but others won’t. In the end, you’ll see that it’s best for everyone involved.”

_Best for everyone involved? Hardly. If I capitulated to His demands, He’d use me up like a sheet of writing paper, then throw the remnants in the fire. And He’d start hunting for the next enemy to bring low, even if He had to create that enemy from within the ranks of His allies. The cycle He’s trapped in doesn’t end when I give up, Aetherian. It only gets worse._

***

Later that day, Herobrine found himself following James through StoneWay streets. The sun burned fiercely; rivulets of sweat dripped down his neck and arms. The air was stultifying.

“Walk with me,” James instructed; accordingly, Herobrine unwillingly hurried his pace until he strode beside the Aetherian. They walked into the Savory Pig; James sat at one of the tables in the center of the room. Herobrine took a seat across from him. He smirked as the innkeeper hurried over.

“Good gentles, what can I do for you? Perhaps some raspberry cordial to help drive the heat away? We’ve ice to add to your drinks if needed.”

“If you don’t mind.” James turned back to Herobrine. “Where’s John Hendricks at this time of day?”

_The wife-beater should be at his job. The last time I heard, he was collecting hay for the stables. He might have lost that job by now, it’s hard to tell._

“Where does he go at night?”

_He comes here, to the inn, and drinks some. Downstairs is the gambling den he frequents. Usually he loses. When Baker tires of his whining and throws him out, he returns to his home and distributes his pain as he sees fit._

“So gambling is his problem.”

_No. Gambling’s one of his vices. Anger is his problem._

“Rather like yourself.”

_Hardly. His rage spills out everywhere, indiscriminately. Mine is a well-honed weapon._

“What would you recommend we do to help this man?”

The ex-deity shrugged. _Anything you do won’t work. You could destroy the gambling den, to keep him from losing all his money, but he’d find another den to frequent. And, since this inn’s owned by Judge Apperson, there’d be a new gambling den constructed in almost no time._

_You could burn down the Savory Pig, to remove the source of alcohol from his life. Again, Judge Apperson owns the inn, so a new inn would be rebuilt and back in business within a month._

_You could remove him from his family, throw him in jail. Long-term incarceration does nothing but harden the criminal. It gives his anger nowhere to go. I imagine he’d kill someone the next time he was released._

“Your predictions for his future are dire.”

_He’s comfortable in his position. He’s yet to try to curb either his rage or his fists._

“You err. He can’t be comfortable in such misery.”

_Perhaps I used the wrong term. He’s never tried to change, or to get help. He’s never struggled to be free of his burden._

“That might be due to the fact he doesn’t believe he can win.”

_Then, he’s either weak or lazy._

“You’re too judgmental.”

_Steve mentioned that several times._

James shook his head. “There’s no hope in his heart. How can he succeed, if he can’t imagine being free?”

_How can he have hope, if he doesn’t fight for it? Besides, even if he does strive for freedom, there are many in this town eager to kick him back into the gutter._

“You speak from experience, I note.” James smiled back at Herobrine’s scowl. “In this instance, the hope he perceives must be very strong—strong enough to support him through those initial trials. I believe that can be handled tonight. He needs help. He needs hope. He needs to be free of judgment for his plight.”

_Then I should have no part in your plans._

“You need do nothing more than watch from the sidelines. However, I insist that you watch.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notch is immensely dissatisfied with Herobrine's lack of progress.

Notch materialized in Herobrine’s cell in the depths of the night. For long moments He stared at the sleeping mortal, frustration tightening His mouth.

_You can’t imagine how disappointed I am in you. Why’d you have to be so intractable? Even at the very beginning, you couldn’t just agree with Me, you always had to argue. Everything I brought up had to be changed to make it ‘right’. Even if I told you that I didn’t approve of the ideas you came up with. Why couldn’t you go along with My concepts? I’d already thought them through to completion! But no, your stubborn streak had to kick in. The only things that turned out right were the ones you had no willing input on—the Aether, the Aetherians, and the humans. Those instances should’ve shown you that your ideas were flawed!_

Notch took a deep breath, keeping His anger in check. _Why couldn’t I have a reasonable brother? Someone who didn’t argue with every breath he took? I wanted someone by My side who understood Me, and trusted My judgement. Instead I got stuck with you—angry, stubborn, unyielding. Set in your ways. You’ve caused Me so much misery! At times I’ve wanted to throttle you!_

_You don’t deserve to be My brother. You don’t deserve to be a god!_ The creator sighed despondently. _But you’re a deity. You have creator powers. I’m fed up with handling the headaches you cause. So, I stripped your divinity away. I removed your powers, as well. In this reduced form, you’re no longer an irritating miscreant. I can safely ignore you. This solves the problem caused by your very existence._

Notch padded silently for the length of the room. _I find myself unwilling to even consider returning your powers to you. I refuse to return to those times when we had to fight about every little thing. So, I’ll take your powers as my own—after all, I’ve already done it once. Yes, that will be best for everyone involved, I’m sure._

Decision made, Notch returned to the portion of the universe where he’d secured Herobrine’s powers. Spiraling through the colors of the universe, ribbons of red and black coiled and looped about themselves, as restless as a snake in a skillet. Notch examined his hands closely. Tearing Herobrine’s powers loose had been a painful experience, burning and charring His hands and arms up to the elbows. Only recently had the damaged skin finally healed over; the stiffness around His joints remained.

_I should be adequately healed. I’ve handled His powers before—never all of His powers, mind you, but enough. It won’t be that hard._

He placed his hands on either side of the restless, shifting energy, and began drawing it into himself. The powers stubbornly refused to move. Notch growled and pulled harder, to no avail.

“Curse you to the Nether!” He roared, using most of his strength to draw it in. “Obey!”

In a single mass, Herobrine’s powers shot into one of Notch’s hands, where it began attacking the god, annihilating His essence. Notch howled as portions of His powers began to disintegrate. He struggled against the vicious energies. He tried to contain the rampant forces, but it took every iota of His strength and concentration. _I can’t stay like this!_

He tried to weave His powers in and among Herobrine’s abilities, only to feel His strands of power unraveled and eradicated.

He tried coiling His powers around a small section of Herobrine’s strength, hoping to split the chunks off, to start weakening the central force. Once again, His energies were attacked and destroyed.

“Blast you!” He cried again. He pushed Herobrine’s powers away, far enough away that He could safely recollect His essence into a single location. He shuddered from the pain of His injuries. He didn’t dare try that again, not being as depleted as He was.

Herobrine’s powers coiled back about itself again, restless but no longer geared to attack.

“Curse Herobrine to the Nether for eternity!” He howled. _Somehow, he set up this—this trap! He made sure that I can’t use his powers again!_ His outrage shook that portion of the space-time continuum.

Panting heavily, Notch returned to the Aether, practically falling into His throne room. He staggered to His room, collapsing on the bed. After long moments, He sat up.

_His trap might be triggered if I’m the one trying to get to his powers._ _So, I’ll need to_ _give them to someone else. Which means I’ll need to elevate someone to deity-hood._ Notch sagged. _Herobrine, you bloody monster, you insist on making things so difficult! Well, at least I can select the individual to elevate. There are many Aetherians who would give me the respect I deserve… and they’d gladly obey any instructions I gave._

Notch smiled at the idea. _Yes, that is clearly the best course to take. This will be an excellent way to permanently replace Herobrine. I’ll take my time, so that I find the perfect replacement._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Notch and Herobrine created the universe...but after that, their stories diverge.

It was another bad day. The weather was icy wet, so he couldn’t sit outside to finish the necessary arrows. The staves Kaleb sent were too bent to use as anything other than kindling; he wound up walking through the forest for most of the day, getting dripped on by sleet while looking for acceptable replacements.

He made it back to his home just after dark, dumping the branches just inside the door, then dropping down into the only chair he had. He rested for a few moments, then walked about lighting his oil lamps and re-starting his fire.

Herobrine left his home before he put anything on to cook, so supper came from the extras provided by Frank. Afterward, feeling somewhat better, he contemplated the bag holding the rest of Kaleb’s supplies. _If I don’t have the arrows ready by tomorrow, Notch will gladly kick me into next year. Then I’ll get another lecture from my ever-so-superior overseer. It’s not worth the headache._

Herobrine walked over to the sack and dumped out the flint. He pulled his bench next to the rocks, and began his arduous daily task.

***

James appeared in the room after a while. Herobrine ignored him, concentrating on the arrow on his bench.

“You’re late. This task should have been completed hours ago.”

Herobrine grit his teeth and kept working. _I couldn’t use what was provided. I had to go find staves that were worth converting to arrows. I’m certain that you know this, I feel your eyes on my back incessantly._

“I’m tasked with that responsibility, yes.”

_Perhaps you should ensure Kaleb doesn’t dump trash on me, then. He might be trying to break the contract by seeing to it that I can’t deliver on a timely basis._

“You don’t trust him.”

_Of course not! Trusting someone who loves prestige and all its attendant trappings is stupidity of the worst sort. You might as well slit your own throat, it’d be less painful in the long run._

“Humans aren’t necessarily that evil.”

_We’ve already discussed my opinion on this,_ Herobrine grumbled. _Do you have anything relevant to say?_

“You’re quite the grouch today.”

Herobrine narrowed his eyes as he turned to glare at his overseer. _I’ve yet to see any Aetherian give a flip of their finger about how I feel. What is it you’re really here for?_

“You’re supposed to have a lesson every day after you complete your contracted assignment. However, since this delay isn’t your fault, I’ll let it slide this time.”

_Your kindness is underwhelming. Now, if you’ll excuse me…_ Herobrine went back to concentrating on his arrow, ignoring the Aetherian. He sighed in relief when the immortal left. _I’ll be lucky to get any sleep before tomorrow._

***

The sun rose just as Herobrine completed the three stacks of arrows. He wearily went about his morning business. After eating, he went out to his fresh-water supply, pulled out a bucket of water, and dumped it over his head.

_Ah! So cold! Notch curse it to the Nether, it’s COLD!_

He fetched the sacks containing the raw materials he needed from Kaleb, which were next to his door, and began the next batch. _Once these are finished,_ he promised himself, _I’ll break into that rum Frank brought me a while ago. Then I’ll take a nice long nap._

The day turned out to be interminably cold and long, but he finished his task. Thankful for that, he cleaned up the leftovers from his work, then went to his bed and dropped onto it. _Finally._

James’ voice interrupted his rest, almost as soon as he closed his eyes. “Herobrine, wake up.”

Herobrine growled silently. _Go away, I’m sleeping._

“It’s time for your next task.”

_Go away, I’m tired!_

“That’s irrelevant, you’ve things to learn yet. Wake up. Get up.”

Unwillingly, Herobrine rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He snatched a hooded cloak from its hook and swung it about his shoulders. _You’re an insufferable dog. I heartily desire to drag you through the Nether for your arrogance._

“Yes, we’ve all heard your opinion repeatedly. Follow.” James turned and left the house, pulling a reluctant Herobrine in his wake. The rain continued to fall, cold and uncomfortable. They headed around the edges of the town; as they walked, James pointed out the people working in the fields, dredging through the small ponds in the area.

“Do you see the people out here, in this miserable weather?”

_I don’t claim to understand the workings of the mortal mind. I’m assuming they strive so diligently because their master cracks the whip above their heads and demands such sacrifice._

“So, you agree that they’re suffering?” James asked pointedly.

Herobrine eyed the Aetherian suspiciously. _Why?_

James didn’t respond; instead, he completed the circuit of the town, ensuring that Herobrine saw all of the laborers. When they finished their walk, James carried Herobrine back to the Aetherian cells.

***

“Think of those people laboring in the icy mud we just saw,” James said, watching Herobrine pace in his cell. “Imagine how much worse it would be if their families were torn apart? If the children’s fathers were no longer around, having been killed in war? If the family was gone, leaving the soldier alone and unwanted—like Abel Renner?”

_Ah. You wish to chastise me for warring with my ever-so-special brother._ Herobrine eyed the immortal coldly. _Throughout the endless battles with Him, these mortals continued to create Nether portals and plunder the wealth of the realm for their own benefit. I tired of their endless greed spurring them to encroach on my domain. So, I struck back._

“You killed civilians, people who weren’t involved in the war!”

_I was after the thieves they housed! These civilians weren’t involved in the war, but they profited from the endless excursions into the Nether. They supported the griefers, helped feed and armor them, and welcomed them back with parades! They grew fat from the wealth ripped from my realm!_ Herobrine shouted as loudly as he could; James winced and clapped his hands over his ears. _I have the same right to protect my realm as you do the Aether!_

“You didn’t need to start a war!”

_Really,_ Herobrine scoffed. _What would you’ve done if they decided to plunder the Aether? Opened your arms and said,_ ‘Welcome! Take whatever you wish!’ _No. You would’ve driven them out as fervently as I._

“We wouldn’t have attacked the innocents!”

_Liar. Once you got desperate enough, you would’ve laid siege to every city, town, and village you could reach._

“I doubt you were as desperate as you claim. An army against one deity still heavily favors the deity. No, I think you wished to increase the misery and heartache in the world, so that you could feed on it.”

_Wait—you believe that I ingest misery?_ Herobrine stared at James as though he’d sprouted a second head.

“You’re known to be Destruction and Death personified—”

_What?!_

“—and you feed off their pain and terror.”

Herobrine approached the bars, stopping across from James. _Are you mad? Or just stupid? I was a god, not some quasi-deity slug that requires worship and sacrifice as sustenance! I existed, unaided, before the universe. Notch is my brother, not my superior._ Herobrine took a deep breath. _How did you come up with such drivel? Did Notch proclaim this as truth? If He did, I’ll cram it down His throat._

“This is common knowledge among the Aetherians.”

Herobrine sneered. _Perhaps you should have your Master clarify the misconception you dogs find yourselves under. Think. If I’m so—limited—then by association, Notch also suffers this same affliction._

“He’s the Creator,” James seemed actively offended at this point, “and is beyond such limitations.”

_Would this be due to the fact that He’s a god, or because He’s the Creator?_

James stepped back, scowling.

Herobrine laughed silently. _Go, dog, seek out your Master and ask His thoughts on the subject._

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

_Very well, Aetherian, I recommend that you seek out Notch and ask Him for enlightenment._ Herobrine returned to the cot, where he stretched out upon the mattress. _We’ll discuss your findings once you return._

***

James returned the next day, clearly conflicted.

Lying on the cot with his hands behind his head, Herobrine smirked. _So, I was far too accurate for your comfort._

“Yes,” the Aetherian responded. “He was—upset—at our preconceptions of godhood. He claimed that you are also a creator, and that the two of you created the universe together.”

_True. But our stories diverge after that point._

“Does that include an explanation for why you hate mortals so virulently?”

Herobrine stared at the ceiling for long moments. _When we first collaborated, and created the Overworld, it was beautiful. Peaceful. Balanced. No mortals blighted the lands. Sunlight and moonlight, weather and clouds kept the plants vitally alive. They minimized the destructive force of erosion and disaster. Animals grazed on the plants, and kept them in check. Predators kept the herbivores in check. The checks and balances moved together, synchronized; the realm danced to its own tune._

_Then Notch demanded a realm all His own; one where I’d be allowed nothing more than the occasional visit. This would weaken both of us, for a realm takes an inordinate amount of strength from any creator. Why should I expend power to create something I wouldn’t be allowed to enjoy? He was being greedy._

_Besides, we just finished the Overworld! We spent millennia constructing everything in one grand realm, and it was perfect! We didn’t need another, and certainly not immediately after finishing one so vast!_

Herobrine glared at the Aetherian for long moments. _He resented me for my refusal. I recognized that this’d be a continual source of strife between us even then. I regret not leaving the realm to Him, and setting out on my own. Even if I lost all that I made, I should have gone. I’ve paid for that mistake many times over._

“If you refused to aid Him, then how did the Aether come about?”

_He stole my power. I was down in the Overworld, working on making a flowering cactus, when He struck me from behind._ Herobrine exuded silent rage. _He managed to hide His power amazingly well; I’d no clue He was near, until He smacked me with His hammer._

_When I awoke, I had less than half my power. He kept me unconscious while He carved out the Aether, created you Aetherians, and fashioned Men. Only after He finished, did He toss the remnants of my power back to me, saying, “You should’ve obeyed Me.” Then He told all Men that I was their mortal enemy, and must be hunted down and destroyed._

Herobrine was silent for long moments. _I created the Nether as a safe place, somewhere Notch didn’t hold sway._ _And while I was there, I healed. It took eons to rebuild my strength to half of what it used to be._

“Why should He bother to return any of your godly powers to you, if He despised you so?”

_Don’t think that He returned me my powers out of kindness! He paid dearly for the theft: His arms were charred up to the elbows._ Herobrine smiled viciously. _I left Him any number of scars that He bears to this day. And if He ever seeks to use my powers again—!_

James shook his head. “I find it impossible to believe your tale.”

_Why should I care about that?_

“Because if we were created using your power, you should be able to control us! Men should be your servants!”

_Notch corrupted my powers—mangled them into the form He desired—as He used them; I’ve no doubt that He had trouble keeping them in that mold. But He used them well enough. He essentially forced your people into subservience. He tried to cram Men into that same mold, but by that point, He was weakening; He couldn’t shove that idea far enough down their throats to stick._

“Your tale is still flawed. As you yourself stated, the Creator never needed the worship of followers.”

_True, He never needed it. But He craved it. The adulation of two intelligent species is heady stuff, it goes straight to the ego. And He’s addicted._ Herobrine glared straight at James. _You mortals are poison. Just watching my domineering brother degenerate taught me just how dangerous sentient mortals are. Why do you think I avoid connections with your kind? I don’t need the contamination!_

“We’re NOT poison!” James huffed. “We’re living, breathing, sentient beings, and we deserve respect for that alone!”

_Where’d you come up with THAT drivel? Why should I respect you, when I’m greater than your entire species!_ Herobrine huffed, and rolled onto his back. _You’ve gotten boring, dog. Go away._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herobrine learns to fish.

James showed up in the afternoon, after Herobrine finished the three stacks of arrows required by Wilson’s contract. The ex-deity looked up from his bench, scowling at the Aetherian. The last arrows were completed; he slid them into the sack. He placed the third stack beside his door, then turned and glared at James.

_I’m busy._

“You just finished your main task for the day; now, we proceed to your secondary tasks,” James replied calmly.

_I’ve no interest in these secondary tasks you insist on shoving down my throat. The mortals make their own misery. If you wish to improve their lot, teach them to avoid the traps they inevitably fall into. Teach them to kill the ones who endlessly seek to enslave them, mortal or otherwise. Culling the vicious from their ranks would also improve the species significantly._ Herobrine went into his house and retrieved his bucket, stalking past the Aetherian as he headed for the river. He filled it with water and returned to his house, hanging it above the fireplace flames to heat. When the water warmed sufficiently, he stripped and took a sponge bath.

Another change of clothes, and Herobrine tossed the remainder of the water out, then walked over to face James. _So, let’s get this stupidity over with._

“You should be more open-minded.”

_Why should I care for people who scarcely care for themselves?_

“Like you, they need to be taught how to care for others.”

_Don’t compare me to them, Aetherian. I wasn’t created mortal._

“Being rated as a mortal bothers you.”

_As you well know._

James sighed. “You’re still in denial of your situation.”

_I recognize my situation. I loathe my situation. I don’t need anyone rubbing my face in the ignominy of my situation—least of all you, dog!_

“I’m not trying to ‘rub your face in your ignominy’. I’m trying to point out why you should have sympathy, mercy for these whom also suffer mortality.”

Herobrine glared at him in response.

James turned toward the main thoroughfare of StoneWay: “Follow,” he commanded.

For a few moments they traversed the gravel road, passing by all the businesses as well as the church. James finally turned on one of the side streets. He maneuvered from street to street until he stood on yet another dirt road, facing another building. This one was more of a hovel, with sagging walls and missing windows. A redstone torch glowed next to the door.

Herobrine looked at the red-glowing torch for a second, then back to James, clearly puzzled. _Aren’t you supposed to be genderless?_

James flushed deeply. “Aetherians have genders, thank you very much! We reproduce in the regular fashion.”

_Imagine that._ Herobrine looked around at the two other houses in the immediate vicinity that could be occupied; each had a redstone torch lighting their door. _I thought you laid eggs, or budded like yeast._

“You’re offensive!”

_Good!_

James stood there for several moments, breathing deeply, clearly struggling for calm. Herobrine smirked at the Aetherian as he waited patiently. When his voice no longer shook with anger James pointed at the hut. “Tell me of the Whitaker family.”

_Three years ago, the mayor expanded his stables by raising taxes on the town,_ Herobrine replied. _Two families lost their homes when they couldn’t pay the taxes. The Whitakers were one such family._

_When these families lost their homes, they also lost their jobs. For a while the father took on what jobs he could find—street cleaner, goatherd, woodcutter, knife sharpener, tinker—to keep his family fed and in a smaller house. He couldn’t hold onto those jobs. Eventually he was killed by the city watch._

“Did you find out why?”

_I never asked._ Herobrine paused for a second, then continued. _The mother, Laura Whitaker, cleaned other people’s homes, took in sewing, and tried selling wicker baskets to supplement their income. She was also unsuccessful in holding those jobs. When her husband died, she and her son were thrown out on the street. They wound up here._

“Tell me, how do they fare?”

_Badly. She barely makes enough to provide food for them, and half of that money goes to paying the rent for this hovel. She put a small bed in the kitchen pantry, so that the boy, Nicholas, can sleep out of the weather while she plies her trade. She tries to keep him clean and fed and cared-for, but under these conditions it’s impossible._

_The anger in the child grows daily; it’s a dark tumor growing on his soul. Chances are good that the police will kill him like his father, for he’s taken to stealing things to improve their lot, despite what his mother says._

“What can be done to help them—besides killing everyone else in town?”

Herobrine shrugged coldly. _Very well, since you limit my options… they need a_ _steady job for income, something to provide for all their needs. They need a home that can’t be taken away. Nicholas needs a father figure, to help with his growing rage. Essentially, these two need to leave StoneWay for a better future, because the people here will remember how low they were brought, and won’t accept them back into their society._

“You’re sure of this last, that they must leave StoneWay to start over again?”

_Absolutely. This ‘good’ town, these ‘good’ people, are poison._

“There are any number of good people living here.”

_And clearly, they’re not enough to stop the masters on the hill from toying with the lives of the workers. These ‘good people’ lack the mental fortitude to take the privileged to task._

“You’re harsh.”

_So?_

“Very well, what would you do to help them?”

_Me?!_ Herobrine stepped away from James in alarm. _I’ve no plans to help them!_

“In theory, what could you do?”

_You don’t discuss things ‘in theory’!_ Herobrine snarled. _You don’t look at this_ _kind of situation without meaning to change it. I want nothing to do with these mortals. Notch already provided an abundance of heartache and travails into my life, I won’t willingly take on more._

“And yet you already have,” James noted. “You turn a blind eye when Nicholas sneaks into your pens, steals eggs, and slaughters ducks. You left a newly-created comforter out on your bench one day, and never said a word when it disappeared. In fact, you lost two comforters that way! But they need more. As you said, they need a fresh start. How do you propose to provide this?”

Herobrine turned away, refusing to acknowledge the Aetherian.

“You could invite them into your house,” James suggested.

Herobrine spun around, glaring daggers at James. _I won’t have a redstone torch_ _lighting my door! Wherever she goes, her clients will surely follow. And they’ll be as arrogant and demanding as any animals in rut._

_Thanks to Notch’s heavy hand, I can’t protect myself, much less anyone else. No, I won’t invite them into my space._

“So, what were your plans concerning the Whitakers?”

Herobrine remained silent.

“Tell me,” James ordered.

_The boy could learn to fish,_ Herobrine spoke through clenched teeth after a few moments’ struggle. _That’d be a dependable food source. In addition, any extra could be sold to the inn without repercussions. The money earned that way could be saved up, to eventually purchase two tickets on the coach._ The ex-deity panted as he finished, the compulsion finally releasing him.

“It sounds like you thought up some excellent ideas for helping them out,” James kept his voice smooth and calm, trying not to smile.

_These so-called plans can’t be enacted. I don’t know how to fish._

James rocked back on his heels. “I see. That’s a significant stumbling-block.”

_Well, Aetherian, since you’re so eager to help, YOU go teach him how to fish._

***

Just after dawn, Herobrine slinked in the woods next to his back yard, following the Whitaker boy as he wove his way toward the duck pens. He scruffed Nicholas just before he opened the pen gate and carried him, silently kicking and fighting, to the front of his house. Beside his door stood two fishing poles; Herobrine picked up the smaller pole and shoved it at the lad’s hand.

The boy grabbed the pole, looking at it as though it might bite.

Herobrine dropped the child. He picked up the larger pole and two buckets, then indicated the direction to travel with a jerk of his head. He headed for the river. For a dozen yards he heard nothing beyond his own footsteps; then the boy joined him. He felt the lad’s eyes watching his every move. The pair walked until they stood on the banks of the Ravager River. Using the light from the rising sun, Herobrine studied the waters flowing past his feet.

_‘If you want bottom-feeders, which are generally easy to catch, then you look for a place where the waters are muddy and the current is slow to non-existent. Dirty water—the water looks kinda like liquid mud—provides a lot of fish along the banks and on the river bottom. There’s usually a lot of debris at the bottom of the river—branches, tree trunks, rocks—so watch out for that. The fish in this type of water are always hungry, and will go after anything wiggling in the water, so worms or live bugs or minnows are great bait.’_

_Thanks for the endless details on fishing, spirit of Claymore Dartmouth. If there’s a single skill I never wanted to develop, it’s how to secure bait on a fishing hook._

Herobrine set his buckets down on the bank. The empty bucket he filled with water and set in a spot where it couldn’t be knocked over. Returning to the second bucket, he dug through the dirt it held until his fingers encountered a fat worm. _A nightcrawler should work for this muddy expanse of water._ He held it up, showing the boy what he held, then proceeded to slide the worm onto his fishing hook.

The lad approached, completely enthralled with Herobrine’s actions.

Once the worm was securely attached to the hook, Herobrine whipped the willow pole in the air, casting the line far into the river.

He stuck his hand in the bait bucket a second time, extracting another worm. He offered it to the boy, but wound up baiting the hook for him.

He picked up his pole and sat down, fingering the line, watching the lad try to cast his own hook into the water. He caught his first fish before the boy succeeded. Placing his catch in the water-filled bucket, he tugged on the boy’s shoulder and repeated the process a second time. This time he handed his fishing pole over to the lad, then took the smaller rod and duplicated the steps.

Before the evening, they used both buckets to carry their day’s catch, a dozen good-sized catfish, bass, and crappies. The lad kept peering into the buckets as they walked back to StoneWay, fascinated by the slow-moving creatures.

At his small house, Herobrine compared the buckets to the thin-limbed child. _He’ll never be able to cart this to his place._

Sighing, he put the fishing poles in his house, then escorted the boy back to his home. The door to the lad’s home was open; Nicholas ran through it, yelling happily. Herobrine followed at a slower pace. The boy’s mother looked up from where she hugged her son, frightened at Herobrine’s appearance at her door. The ex-deity brought the buckets over, setting them at her feet.

She peered at the slowly-moving water, then at him, her eyes wide with wonder.

Herobrine pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled the note: ‘Return buckets once you finish’. He passed that to her and left.

***

James stood before his home. Herobrine scowled at the Aetherian as he entered his home.

“You did well,” James followed the ex-deity, smiling. “This shall help them survive, and give them the hope that they need.”

_Leave me be, Aetherian. I’m filthy, I need to clean up._

“Just remember to be ready by dawn tomorrow.”

_What?!_

“You need to help Nicholas collect fish until he’s competent.”

_I’m not responsible for those mortals!_

“Helping them survive doesn’t make you responsible for them.”

_Yes, it does! If they starve, I’ve failed. If the boy’s a slow learner, I must be available for a longer time. Don’t tie me to their fate, Aetherian, I’m not their dog._

“I never said you were.”

_If you treat me like their dog, it doesn’t matter whether you say it or not._

“Helping those less fortunate than yourself is always a noble goal.”

_Only for your kind, Aetherian. I don’t need the shackles you seek to bind me with. I don’t care about mortals, I’ve no reason to care about them, I resent you attempting to force me to care about them._

“It will do your mind and soul good.”

_My mind and my soul are my concern, not yours. I resent the burdens you try to stack on my shoulders._

“It’s my task to teach you these lessons.”

_Spare me your condescending lectures and endless examples. I don’t need any lessons from a group of self-inflated lesser immortals._

“Nevertheless, be ready at dawn tomorrow to take the lad fishing again.”

Herobrine stomped into his house, slamming the door in James’ face as he silently swore. _You will pay for this. You and yours will pay for this._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notch elevates an Aetherian to godhood, so that she can take over Herobrine's powers.

Seated on the Aetherian throne, Notch waited patiently while the Aetherian populace gathered in His temple. They threw themselves into the celebration, the white walls and golden floor polished until they gleamed. Flowers covered every flat surface. Offerings of gold and jewels crowded the stairs leading up to the throne.

 _They have every reason to celebrate,_ Notch smiled at His people. _After all, one of their own shall be elevated to godhood today._

With a fanfare of horns and drums, the celebrant walked slowly into the throne room. Notch viewed her with a small smile. _She looks like a bride._

With carefully timed steps, the young woman paced the length of the sanctuary, coming to a halt at the foot of the dais just as the music finished. Notch stood and walked down the dais to greet her. She bowed deeply. He took her hand and led her up to the throne. Once they stood before the throne, he pulled a golden circlet out of the air.

“Cecilia, you’ve been devoted to My service for your entire life,” he spoke softly, though the words filled the sanctuary. “I’ve watched your kindness and caring for years with much approval. I’ve applauded your service to your people, how you place them above yourself. For this and for other actions, I selected you as the next deity to grace the Aether realm.”

She knelt before Him; He then lowered the circlet on her head. As He placed the small crown, He released His powers through it, changing her from immortal to deity. The process took several moments; the populace watched, entranced. When the golden-white glow receded from her Notch helped her to stand up. He waved expansively at the gathered supplicants. “I present to you the goddess Cecilia,” He announced.

The cheers could be heard all across the Aether.

***

Removing his shirt, Herobrine pulled another bucket of water from his clean water supply, and dumped it over himself. It was almost cold, which was a vast relief from the heat baking the lands. He shook his hair from his face, returning to the bench to finish his daily task.

_How do mortals stand this?_

He bent close to the front of the bench, slotting a carefully cut piece of feather into the tiny groove he’d carved into the arrow shaft. Once he placed all the fletching on that arrow, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

_Maybe if I kept my feet in a bucket of cold water? Maybe that would keep me cool enough to keep working? It’s worth a try… that and another mug of water._

Herobrine fetched both buckets, as well as refilling his mug with clean water. He shook his head, and went back to work.

_This heat wave has to break soon._

***

Notch sat on His throne in the Aether, with Cecilia sat at His feet. He beamed at her. “My dear, you’ve excelled at every task I’ve given you. These were all essential for you to learn, and you’ve mastered the skills quickly and easily. Therefore, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Yes. This is your final challenge. Come.”

He took her hand and transported her to where Herobrine’s powers resided at the edge of the realm. Cecilia gasped at her first sight of the gods’ powers, black ribbons with red highlights endlessly intertwining. “It’s beautiful.”

“And deadly,” Notch warned her. “In order to be a creator, you must master this. These are all the energies of a creator-god. It takes courage and mental strength to control them. You have both of these attributes, so I’ve no doubt that you’ll succeed.”

Cecilia eyed the energies uncertainly. “If you say so, Great One, then I believe it.” Setting her mouth in a straight line, she put her hand forward and commanded the power before her. Herobrine’s energy ignored her.

“Patience,” Notch advised. “Work on the power, dominate it. You’re the master, it is the servant. Use your will to direct and control its actions.”

Cecilia concentrated, focusing her strength on the powers before her. “My will be done,” she insisted, “MY will be done.”

Herobrine’s powers thinned and stretched out, slowly migrating to her hand. Cecilia beamed her joy, but didn’t let up on her concentration. Notch caught His breath, His eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Then Herobrine’s powers launched themselves at Cecilia, slamming into her before she could let out a gasp. Their red-tinged black glow poured out of her pores, eradicating the goddesses’ gold-white luminescence. The light in her eyes reflected the creator power she tried to dominate. She screamed, then dissolved into particles that scattered across the length of the realm.

Notch cried out as soon as He saw the attack. He raised His hand and summoned His strength, ready to battle to save her; but she was gone before He could do anything.

The creator threw His head back, roaring, “HEROBRINE! YOU MURDERER!”

***

It was still baking hot, the yellow sunlight scorching everything it touched. The river now flowed twenty feet below the normal waterline. All fish hid in the deepest pools available, making catching them exceedingly difficult. Herobrine walked along the banks of the river, looking for a place that promised better fishing conditions. As experienced as he was with fishing, even Nicholas couldn’t find any; with James’ permission, Herobrine tried his luck.

The ex-deity occupied the position of StoneWay fletcher for so long he now sported a few white hairs.

A whisper of sound brought the ex-deity to a stop, looking around. _Someone called me?_ He was alone in the forest, so he shrugged and continued his search.

Suddenly someone grabbed him by the throat and slammed him backward into the nearest large oak. For a second, he saw stars. When his vision cleared, he saw Notch, and spasmed with terror.

The creator slammed him into the tree again; Herobrine’s vision blacked out a second time. He felt his head rock side-to-side as Notch punched him. He tried to cover his face with his hands, to back away from his attacker; the tree kept him in place. The creator pulled him close, only to ram his back into the trunk again; he felt ribs in his back break with the impact.

“You heartless dog!” Notch roared. “You killed her! For no good reason! You and your stupid tricks destroyed her beyond recovery!”

The creator then threw him to the ground, hard. Herobrine curled into a tight ball, trying to protect his vitals, as the god kicked him over and over again. Each kick broke bones.

When his vision disappeared, and he couldn’t fill his lungs, he felt Notch pull him to his feet for the final time. Somehow the world shifted; the ground changed to cold stone, no breeze shifted the air, and no light could be seen. The creator slammed him against a stone wall. Herobrine collapsed to the floor, still struggling to breathe.

Notch rolled him onto his back and drove His fist against Herobrine’s sternum twice. Each blow seemed charged with lightning; the ex-deity’s whole body thrashed with each strike.

Finally, the creator left him alone. “You can rot here for eternity. I’ll guarantee that you never leave.”

Herobrine lay on the floor, feeling blood trickling down his face, out of his mouth, and off his scalp. He still couldn’t see, could scarcely breathe. He whimpered as he rolled onto his side, then began painfully coughing up blood. Unconsciousness claimed him quickly.

***

Herobrine jerked awake with a gasp, lurching to his feet. He swayed for an instant as memory conflicted with reality. _This can’t be real! I remember—Notch killed me. I was dying from the injuries He inflicted. So how am I standing up, feeling no pain?_

He looked himself over, noting the dried blood on his chest and arms. He felt more on his face, and rubbed it off. Then he looked around, confused. _Wait, there’s no light in this—place. So how am I seeing?_

Herobrine scanned the room he found himself in. Iron bars covered every inch of the walls, sinking out of sight into the stone ceiling and floor. _I’m in another cell. Curse you to the Nether, Notch, why can’t you leave me alone!!!_

Slumping, he walked to the nearest wall and slid down its length until he was sitting. _I might still be dying, and this is just the sad tatters of my consciousness. But I don’t think so._ He rubbed at his sternum. Perplexed, he rubbed it again, feeling an energy he hadn’t felt in years. _I’m not—empty any more. There’s something there. He gave it back? He gave it back!_

Ecstatic, he jumped to his feet and examined his hands. _They’re glowing! I’m a deity again! Huzzah!_ Herobrine danced about the cell exuberantly, laughing and cheering silently.

Once he calmed down, he sat in the middle of the cell, staring at his hands. _Let’s see how generous that greedy monster was._ Holding his hands out, he concentrated; a bright yellow-white light appeared in his palms. _Immortality._

Shaking the light from his hands, he performed the same action, concentrating on a different aspect. This time, a deep black sphere appeared. _My colors. So, I’m a deity again. Hmm, only black is left. I used to have some red, that’s a major change. Not a good one, but I don’t care._

Shaking that light from his hands, Herobrine put his hands on his knees. _Okay, final_ _test—do I have my powers back?_ He tried to levitate; he tried to teleport. _Nothing;_ _Notch still holds my powers._

 _There has to be a way to get them back from that thief._ He looked around at the cell. _I need to get out of here, first off._ Slowly he walked the perimeter, scanning the walls, looking for a way out. _No door, so teleporting is essential. Not only that, but Notch put a lock on everything here; only He can freely come and go. Sadly, that’s not surprising._

 _Let’s try removing some of the wall just to see what happens_. Herobrine clenched his fists and started pounding on one of the iron bars. After several moments he stopped, shaking his hands from the pain in his knuckles. He glared at the bars. _No damage… obviously that’s not going to work._

Herobrine began pacing the cell. _I have to wait until He shows up again, and who knows when that will be. Then I have to snatch some of His power without being caught in the act, so that I can imitate His signature on the locks of this cell. I’ll need a lot of luck to pull this off. That and patience. Well, I’ve waited this long, a few more years won’t hurt._

***

As so many times before, Notch appeared before Herobrine with no forewarning. The younger deity jerked away from his brother as soon as he saw Him, fear racing through his blood. Notch grabbed hold of Herobrine’s shoulder. The younger god panicked, striking the creator, struggling to get free.

The older brother scowled and slammed him into the nearest wall hard enough to make him see stars again. Herobrine blindly punched Notch in the stomach and the face. Grabbing hold of Herobrine’s arm, the older deity broke it in one swift move.

Herobrine screamed, clutching the injury close to his chest, dropping to his knees from the pain. Notch grabbed his chin and rammed His energy through Herobrine’s body in one massive surge that shoved the recipient toward unconsciousness. Herobrine clung to awareness by his fingernails. Notch grabbed his hair, and they left the cell, reappearing in the far reaches of the universe.

Herobrine’s powers hovered in the nothingness, pulsing softly. Notch flung his brother into the heart of the energies. Herobrine felt his powers ruthlessly drive into his chest; then, instead of tearing him apart, they spread out to where they belonged and settled in. The deity lay, still and silent, welcoming the feeling of finally being complete. His arm healed itself. His vision cleared.

He looked around, finding himself back in the cell Notch created for him. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, feeling dried blood coating his hair. _He made sure that I couldn’t grab any of His energy._ Sigh. _I’m almost where I want to be. Patience, I’ll get there. He’ll make a mistake somewhere in here._

He leaned back against the wall and wished himself young, wished himself clean. He took a twist of his energy and looped it into a small Mobius strip. He lit the inside of his cell until it shone like a star. He created sheets of white silk, changed it to clothes, and dressed comfortably for the first time in ages.

 _White is boring._ Herobrine played with the colors of his clothes, going from yellow and red to midnight blue to black with white trim. When he found a color combination that suited his self-image, he stood and conjured a full-length mirror. _Midnight-blue shirt, pure black pants highlighted with electric blue streaks… yeah, it looks pretty good, all told._

Then he looked at his eyes. _What the Nether—? Those aren’t my eyes! I have white eyes!_ He neared the mirror, inspecting the image carefully. _Wait, I remember… Notch placed an illusion over my eyes, to fool the mortals! All this time and I’ve had the snippet of His power I needed to escape!_

Herobrine leaned back against the cell wall, laughing hard. When he regained control of himself, he gently extracted the energy from his eyes, pooling it into his palm. _I have a_ _use for you…_

Herobrine spun the power out into a thin sheet, with which he surrounded himself. He walked forward, slowly and carefully, to the cell wall, and phased through it. The enchantments Notch placed on the cell grabbed at his form; but when it encountered more of Notch’s power, it relaxed and allowed him passage. In moments, Herobrine found himself in the vast emptiness at the end of the universe.

 _Free!_ He cried out. _I’m free! I’m finally free! Free!_ He celebrated his release in the nothingness for a long, long time, dancing and tossing fireworks about wildly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herobrine makes his plans for how he'll take Notch down.

After he tired of celebrating, Herobrine lazily contemplated his next action. _I think I’ll make a world out here, where nobody ever comes by—No! That monster’d surely come by to check on me at some time! He’ll try to imprison me again!_

 _No!_ he roared, _Never again! I’ll kill Him first!_

Quivering with rage, he pulled a scythe of energy into being. He began crafting the enchantments his weapon would have. _You’ll be able to kill gods,_ he snarled. _You’ll be indestructible, unstoppable, eternally sharp. Only I can wield you. Only_ —he stopped, taking a deep breath. With another breath, he deconstructed his scythe.

Then he sat in the lotus position, working on taking long, slow, easy breaths. _Calm._ _Relax. Don’t run on impulse. Plan this out. You need to first decide what Notch’s fate should be. Then you add your plans for yourself, as well as the realms. Don’t forget, you still lack the strength to kill Him._

_Option 1: I could just leave. Deconstruct the Nether, take my powers and run so far He’d never find me._

_It’s tempting, but there’s a good chance that He’d spot me tearing up the Nether. And if I left that realm intact, He’d have a way to track me. I’d always be looking over my shoulder._

_So—no running._

_Option 2: kill the monster. Trap Him, rip out His godhood, His powers, His immortality. Then finish Him off. Give Him one unforgettable lesson on fear._

_I like this option._

_After I kill Him, I can go to the Aether and get rid of that entire realm. Kill the Aetherians, especially Steve and James, the self-righteous pricks. And that nurse. Heh, I could kill them all, it’d probably be fun!_

_Unravel the Nether, I won’t need it anymore. There’s nothing intelligent in there, so it’s no big deal; and I’ll get a great power boost._

_The Overworld will die without Notch’s powers to sustain it. It’d be a mercy to kill the people before the universe dies._ Pause. _Frank. Beth. Laura. Nicky._

 _Damn you Aetherians!_ Herobrine roared into the emptiness at that realization. _You’ve corrupted me!_

It took time for Herobrine to regain his calm, to accept this new fact about himself. _All right, Option 2 won’t work. Think of another possibility. Decide what to do about each piece of this universe, and construct your plan from there._

After a considerable portion of time passed, Herobrine resumed planning. _I want—the Overworld to continue. Undamaged. That means that monster of an older brother must survive._

_I want—the Aetherians humbled. That can be achieved by closing the Aether off from the Overworld. Their portals require glowstone, so that won’t be too hard. Trap all the sycophants in the Aether, where they can’t do a thing._

_I can still kill James and Steve and that nurse._

_I want—the Nether? Yes, I want the Nether to continue. It’s tiny, I need to enlarge it. I also want to cut its ties to the Overworld, last thing I want is those vile mortals crawling all over my home again._

_What do I do about the mortals? I loathe their superior airs, their self-righteousness, their covetousness._ Sigh. _I guess I’d best trap the Aetherians on the Overworld, make them earn their living by domesticating the mortals. That should keep them busy for a dozen millennia easily._

_That leaves deciding what to do about my monstrous older brother. Trap Him and strip everything from Him. Like he did to me. I like the irony._

_For His powers to maintain the Overworld, He has to remain pretty much inviolate. Unchanged. Still a deity, still with His powers._

_I hate that idea. But it spares the Overworld, so I’ll deal with the disappointment._

_Where should I stash Him? Somewhere neither the Aetherians nor the mortals can ever reach Him. The Nether is the best place for that, I control it all. No, that’d be expected. Not in the Overworld, that realm is crawling with mortals._ His eyes turned to the cell that once held him. _Perhaps here, where brother dear planned to leave me, would suffice. This cell could be altered to hold Him. I don’t have to move it one iota, just change it._

_He’ll doubtlessly go mad in that cell. Well, He wished that fate on me, it’s fitting that He drink from that same cup._

_Again, delicious irony. I approve._

_Now, how do I trap Him? He’s stronger than I am, ever since He first stole my powers and used them up, I’ve been much weaker than He is. So, I’ll have to ambush Him, hit Him hard enough and fast enough to put Him down with that one attack. Then I’ll have to hide Him and bind Him as soon as I have His sorry self. That means I’d better prepare everything in advance to keep Him perpetually bound. He’ll never see it coming._

***

Notch sat on His throne, spreading His essence across the Overworld, ensuring that all was well. _The weather is finally settling down. Good. It’s a very expensive price I paid to keep the realm stable; my cursed brother still exists. Well, He’ll go mad in a millennium or two. Maybe He’ll be more amenable once He loses His mind. I wonder if I could replace His personality, or subdue His mind, once He loses all sanity? It’s something to consider…_

Standing up, Notch exited the throne room through the door behind the throne. He headed for His bedroom, contemplating the possibility of providing a new personality for His younger brother. _There’s not much chance of success. I don’t even know what materials would be needed. It’s entirely possible I’m the first to even consider this idea._

He stepped through the alcove into His bedroom—and an unnaturally strong hand grabbed Him by the throat and yanked Him to the side. Off-balance, Notch staggered in the direction He was pulled. A flint dagger, enhanced with god-strength, slid across His throat, reducing His cry of alarm to a gurgling wheeze.

Faster than He could believe, three more god-enhanced daggers slid between His ribs; He fell to His knees, choking on pain and blood. An enhanced poniard got rammed through His sternum and into His heart; a blast of destructive creator power ran down the poniard’s blade, burning through His heart, tearing into His spine. Notch felt another hand clutch His skull; He did His best to scream as more destructive creator power ripped through both His mind and His body.

Consciousness fled.

***

The Aether, Notch’s heavenly realm, started shaking with the dawn. The quakes rattled the grounds of every floating island, ripping the buildings apart. The Aetherians panicked and fled the devastation once they saw chunks of the islands sloughing off and falling from the Enlightened Realm. Those closest to the Overworld portals fled through them; the remainder of the population flew to the main island, where Notch’s palace resided.

The Aetherians on the main island wailed in loss as each of the smaller islands crumbled and fell from the Enlightened Realm. Soon only the main island remained.

They gathered around the ruins of the palace, wordless in their shock and sorrow. One pointed at the apex of the ruins of the building, crying, “Notch!” For a figure stood there, looking down at the Aetherians.

A cheer started among the survivors, then petered out. The figure before them wore all black. His eyes were beacons of white; they could feel waves of hatred pouring from Him.

 _I killed Notch,_ the god Herobrine projected to the people gathered below Him. _His realms are now Mine. You are now Mine. Kneel!_

Among the crowd, Steve paled. “Herobrine,” he whispered. “Notch save us, He’s free.”

Herobrine’s eyes centered on the Aetherian. _Steve,_ he sneered. _So good to see you._ _Tell your companions who I am, and what they may expect. You also, James,_ and the creator turned to face His other handler. His eyes returned to the rest of the Aetherians. _I said kneel,_ He snarled, and put power into His command.

Willing or not, all the Aetherians knelt before the deity.

“Please, Herobrine, don’t take your anger out on innocents,” James started.

 _I don’t consider you dogs innocent of anything,_ Herobrine snapped. _Remember this—you’re now My dogs, to do with as I see fit._

 _This realm, this Aether, shall be destroyed by sunset,_ He announced. _Three portals to the Overworld remain active on this island; use them. Once you’re on the Overworld, take the mortals into your care. Teach them how to be reasonable. Cull the viciousness, the greed, the stupidity from the species. Teach them what they need to know to better themselves and their compatriots._

_Teach them to fear Me, for I won’t be kind. I loathe their species. If they can’t improve, they’ll be destroyed. I’ll also destroy the Aetherians who failed them._

_Steve and James—yes, you two earned an undeserved reprieve. I meant to kill you, but you have use still, and I find it amusing. Better than any other Aetherians, you know My thoughts and opinions on the mortals. Let your peers know what must be changed for the sake of the mortals._

_I’ll send out commandments by you two, and you’ll be responsible for spreading My words to your people._

Some of the Aetherians wept silently at that announcement.

_Remember—come sunset, the Aether is no more._

Herobrine disappeared from the ruins of Notch’s palace.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaleb gets payback.

Kaleb Wilson twitched uncontrollably as he woke, certain that someone else inhabited his bedroom. He sat up, gasping, looking about wildly for any indication of the intruder. All he saw were the regular furnishings—thick carpet, heavy dark oak furniture, well-cushioned seats. It seemed no one besides himself occupied the bedroom.

Then he looked closer at one of the seats. Someone reclined in his large and comfortable wingback chair.

Kaleb drew his covers closer while demanding, “Who are you? How dare you invade my privacy! Get out!” in his most authoritative tones.

He heard a soft chuckle, then a velvet baritone voice that he didn’t recognize, _And,_ _here I just settled in._ There was something wrong with the voice, but Kaleb couldn’t say what it was. No lights were used, but Kaleb found that he could see all of the intruder clearly—except for his eyes. For some unknown reason, the man’s eyes were closed. He dressed in common clothes—a black shirt, black trousers, and shiny black boots. None of the clothes were constructed from top-quality fabrics, or fitted by a tailor. _A worker. What is this scum doing in my room?!_

“What’s your name? Get out! By Notch, I’ll have you thrown in jail for this transgression! Get out!”

The interloper opened his eyes slowly, letting the bright white light they emitted illuminate the room. Kaleb choked out a high-pitched scream. He clawed his way to the top of his headboard, unable to hear anything over the hammering of his heart.

Smiling evilly the whole time, the demon Herobrine rose and approached the bed.

Kaleb tried to flee to the other side of the bed, to anywhere besides this room, to any place away from the White-Eyed Terror. But he couldn’t move. His legs remained locked; his arms clung to the canopy pillars. He closed his eyes, silently whimpering, _Oh please oh please oh please…_

 _Now, now,_ the words hissed directly into his ear, _let’s not disturb the rest of your family, they’re sleeping so soundly. Let’s have a nice, civilized discussion, shall we? We have so many points of interest to cover._

Kaleb tried to scream again.

 _I know,_ Herobrine commiserated, _it’s horrible when someone else controls your body. They get to decide everything—what you do. Where you go. How long you can stand, sit, eat, drink. They can even work your vocal cords for you. And there’s absolutely. Nothing. You. Can. Do. About. It. It’s incredibly horrid, yes?_

 _One of the most infuriating parts of this type of control is the way they always say ‘it’s for your own good’._ Pause. _I won’t be telling you that, it’s a lie of such proportions that I couldn’t get it out my throat._

The demon strode over to the balcony doors, flinging them wide to breathe in the night air. He stood on the balcony for a moment, looking around. _Come, Kaleb, the view is_ _well worth seeing._

Kaleb’s legs walked the panicked man out onto the balcony. He looked around in horror. Every one of the houses on the hill were aflame, from the ground level to the roof. He could smell the smoke, hear the crackles of the flames. What worried him was the lack of people about the many mansions. Where were the firefighters? Where were the servants? Why weren’t there a mass of coaches available to take everybody important to safety?

Herobrine looked behind Kaleb: _Oh, dear, it looks like the fire spread to your mansion as well. How sad._ He smiled wickedly at the man. _Don’t worry, I don’t plan to consign you to the flames._

The demon pointed to the worker’s side of StoneWay, where stragglers fled into the forest as flames engulfed all the homes. _Looks like most of your peasants survived this night. But their houses are gone, such a shame. I guess they’ll have to leave the town, and look for work elsewhere. It shouldn’t be too difficult for them to find, they’re hard workers._

Herobrine leaped onto the balcony rail, and enjoyed the full view of StoneWay. He turned his glowing eyes uphill. _It appears nobody from the hillside homes made it out._ _I guess they decided to go up with their wealth. Or down with it. Whichever way it goes._

Kaleb whimpered, unable to voice his terror. That fear soon turned to pain. The White-Eyed demon turned to the man. _Your pants are on fire, Kaleb, doesn’t that bother you? No?_

The man tried to scream.

 _Relax,_ Herobrine snapped, _as I said, you’re not meant to feed the fire. Yet._ The monster grabbed Kaleb by the shirt, and lifted him onto the guardrail about the balcony. He balanced the man precariously on the curved railing, letting go once Kaleb could stand unaided.

The demon glanced over the balcony to the ground below. _Three stories is a significant drop. Add the fact that any landing will be on a flagstone terrace, and you have a fatal encounter with gravity._ He glanced at the man swaying beside him on the railing. _I believe your family motto applies now: ‘When we say ‘jump’, you ask ‘how high?’’_ The demon smiled. _Kaleb,_ he commanded, _jump._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notch's fate, at Herobrine's hands.

Notch found himself quite surprised when He opened His eyes. _I’m not dead? Herobrine_ _left Me alive? That’s impossible._ First thing He did was to check Himself over. _I’m still a deity, I still have My powers. I’m still immortal. He didn’t do anything to Me? That’s not_ _possible; he’s vindictive._ He found it hard to believe, but He was fine, both physically and mentally.

Notch sat up, finding Himself on a large, comfortable bed. The room was large and comfortable, well-lit, with polished marble floors and paintings all over the walls. A fireplace kept the room warm and cozy. In the center of the room sat a large table, holding an assortment of foods—fruits, steak, a complete cooked chicken with dressing, steaming broccoli and carrots, baked potatoes slathered in butter and sour cream. A flagon of Aetherian ambrosia sat next to a lone plate. A slice of cake sat to the side. _This makes less and less sense._

Notch checked the food over, finding no curse, no taint, nothing to adversely impact him. He stood beside the table for long moments, looking at the spread. _Why?_ Eventually, not seeing any problem with it, He sat down and ate the prepared meal, drinking the ambrosia.

When He finished eating, the food and plates vanished from the tabletop. _This is magic, not Herobrine’s powers,_ Notch noted. _Why would He do it this way?_

A large sheet of paper appeared on the table. Notch picked it up and read…

‘I successfully ambushed You. You were helpless in my hands and believe me, I wanted to deliver the killing blow! My hatred’s far deeper than You can imagine. I yearned to rip Your godhood away, destroy Your powers, seal away Your immortality. To watch You grow old and feeble, and finally breathe Your last, would’ve been a joy. But—that would destroy the universe and, despite all You’ve done, this realm isn’t deserving of the annihilation caused by the destruction of its Creator.

‘I could’ve crippled You as You did to me, but that’d be singularly unsatisfactory. I’d have the upper hand, then You’d find some way to get the upper hand, then I’d fight to get the upper hand… another endless, vicious cycle of revenge would begin anew. I’d still be trapped.

‘I yearned for freedom from Your presence more than I craved Your misery and eventual death. Thus, I removed all traces of my power from this universe. The Nether is no more. All of creation bears only Your mark now. This realm is truly Yours. You’ll find this to be a difficult burden to bear, if for no other reason than this universe is so large. I’ll draw some pleasure thinking of You struggling to maintain what You now control. I seriously doubt that You’ll be able to balance Your obligations.

‘Following the advice “The best revenge is living well,” I’m no longer in this realm. I made sure Your injuries took considerable time for recovery, so by now I’m very, very far away. I’ll never return. And if You ever come out searching for me, I’ll kill You, regardless of the consequences.’

Notch sat back, contemplating the message for long moments. _This missive was created by a mortal’s magic, not His power. He left me no traces to track Him with. So, where’d that little scab disappear to? Surely, He wouldn’t abandon everything... yet I don’t feel him anywhere._

He thought some more. _If what He says is true, then I’m finally free of His presence. That’s something I’ve always wanted, though not in this fashion. Still, this can be beneficial. My will is supreme in all realms: the Overworld, the End, and the Aether. No one’s around to defy Me anymore._

Notch nodded His head sharply. _Yes, I can see how well this shall work out._ “Good riddance, Herobrine, this was best for all involved,” and He raised His goblet one last time to His brother.

***

Herobrine stood beside the bed holding Notch’s sleeping form, ensuring that the dream ensnaring His older brother was secure. He’d been careful with this dream, using the truth wherever he could.

The Nether was one of the few lies he’d crafted. In reality, his realm was as safe and stable as ever.

He’d already inspected the other protections to keep anyone from discovering Notch, as well as the enchantments to hold Notch prisoner should the dream ever fail.

Satisfied with the guards and wards He had in place, Herobrine spared one last look at His brother, and teleported away. It was time to go home—to the Nether.

_Goodbye, brother. You should be pleased that neither of us got what we desired most. Enjoy your dream life._


End file.
